


The Companion

by bluetoast



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Force Training, Force Visions, Force-Sensitive Chirrut Îmwe, Force-Sensitive Finn, Historical Inaccuracy, Historical References, Influenza, It's Earth but with the Force, Jazz Age, Jedi, Jedi Ben Solo, Jedi Finn, Jedi Luke Skywalker, Jedi Training, Kylo Ren and Rey Are Not Related, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rey Andor - Freeform, Rey Needs A Hug, Rey-Centric, Snuggling, Social Class, Swimming, The Force, Travel, World War I, based on a book, bridal carry, force senstive rose tico, meals are a plot point, rey is jyn and cassian's daughter, slight crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2018-11-10 05:16:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 74,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11120682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetoast/pseuds/bluetoast
Summary: The Great War and Influenza all but decimated the world of force-sensitive people. The Jedi were all but annihilated, and schools across the globe shuttered their doors. Ben Organa was sent on holiday by his uncle, in an effort to bring him out of the depression the War had buried him in. The suggestion of Monte Carlo was an odd one, but none the less, he went.Reyes Andor once hoped to attend Jedha, the Jedi Academy in England. Her father, Cassian, had taken her to the gates one day as a little girl and told her she would go. After the War, the school closed and the dream was dashed. Now, with her parents gone, she works as a companion to Mrs. Antilles, and hides her Force sensitivity. They've been in Monte Carlo for nearly a month and she can already tell that her employer is growing bored.Then Benjamin Organa walks into the dinning room.Written for the Reylo Sin Anthology Rewrite Challenge - Based off 'Rebecca' by Daphne DuMaurier





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For Lisa, who would have adored this pairing.

Most young women would be thrilled to be in a place as exciting as Monte Carlo. For Reyes Andor, it was work. Just a little over a decade ago, the daughter of her social upbringing had only two lots in life; becoming a wife and mother once schooling was done or finding some form of suitable work until the former occurred. Her father and mother had better dreams for their little girl; dreams that went to pot after the Great War and the Influenza. She had never set any lofty goals for herself, she wasn't out to save the world or even change it. She knew how fortunate she was; being allowed to go to school until well into her late teens, while most girls of her station were sent to work, in some fashion or another.

Being an only child did have some advantages, even in her class. 

“What has happened to this place?” Mrs. Antilles let out a simpering whine under her breath and Rey did her best to remain passive. She had told herself a dozen times in the past three days that she had to keep her temper in check, particularly when her employer sounded exactly like a petulant child. “I mean, where is the old crowd?” She looked around in disdain, her dish of veal Marsala ignored as she scanned the dining room, searching for someone from the past; some sort of reminder of a time that she still clung to with a blind hope.

Rey knew the days the woman was looking for; days that were as gone as the horse and buggy. She looked down at her own lunch of ravioli, resisting the urge to fill her mouth in an undignified way to keep herself from saying what she longed to. Instead, she took a sip of water. “Perhaps their trains are delayed, Mrs. Antilles, or a storm at sea has kept them from reaching the harbor.” 

The woman chuckled, setting down her fork. “Logical Reyes. I'm certain that must be the reason.” She sighed, taking up her wine glass. “Still... where has the old crowd gone?”

She stuffed a large bite of pasta into her mouth to keep from mentioning that much of the 'old crowd' the woman was referring to wasn't able to travel with the same regularity as they used to be able to. Age, the War, and finances were doing a rather meticulous job of thinning the ranks of the upper classes of Europe, and she expected it was the same in America. She wasn't certain what her employer's age was, certainly old enough to be her mother, and possibly even her grandmother. 

“Not a single well-known personality here.” She picked up her fork, her face full of disdain, as if her own character had been insulted. “I didn't come here to look at pageboys and waiters.” Her mouth drew into the smile that Rey hated. “That one's cute.” She gestured towards a tall young man passing their table.

Rey looked in the same direction, feeling her cheeks flush; the man was close to her own age of twenty. Rather than agree with the woman, she straightened her shoulders, putting her focus back on her plate. “I believe most of the parliaments are still in session. As for celebrities of another kind, perhaps the actors and actresses are in a bit of a state of panic. I was reading in the paper the other day that they've invented a way to capture sound for the motion pictures.” She saw the woman's face draw up in a grimace. “Or they could all be still mourning over the death of Mr. Valentino, it's not even been a year.” She decided to humor the woman the best she could. “I still weep over his untimely death at least once a week.” She cleared her throat, in a rather lovely imitation of stifling a sob.

“Oh, he was such a sweetheart.” She lifted her glass. “I don't blame you there, kiddo.” She downed half of her glass of Merlot, then her face brightened. “Now, here's a face...” She lifted up her opera glasses, peering through them, her face drawn up like a cat ready to pounce on a mouse as she let out a gasp. “It's Benjamin Organa.” 

Reyes looked over her shoulder towards the entrance to the dining room, seeing a sallow faced man who was perhaps ten years her senior. A scar ran down the side of his face, and his cheekbones seemed far too prominent. She quickly looked back at her plate, but not before risking another look back; his black hair was a little too long to be considered fashionable. It was impolite to stare, something her employer had either never learned, or had merely forgotten.

“You know who he is, of course?” Mrs. Antilles had a look on her face that Rey didn't care for. “The man whose family owns Jedha. You know about Jedha, don't you, kiddo?”

Everyone in England knew of Jedha. It was once the finest school for Force sensitive people in the British Empire. “Yes.” she poked at her pasta. Nearly all the Jedi of Europe had been killed in the Great War. The school had been closed and now, most Force sensitive people there were in the United Kingdom went to a school in Canada, founded shortly before the American Civil War by a woman named Ahsoka Tano.“I have heard of it.” She could still clearly remember that morning, peering through the gates at the terracotta colored main house with a longing that even now, made her heart twist. Papa had told her that some day, he would be sending her there. That was before the school closed, and she'd clung to the hope that someday, she'd be on the other side of that iron gate.

“He was the only survivor of his company.” Mrs. Antilles was speaking in a hushed whisper. “Ten years on and still he grieves.” 

At that moment, Rey wished there wasn't a gulf of class difference between her and the woman sitting next to her, for she would have dearly loved to have upturned her plate of bright red marinara sauced pasta on Mrs. Antilles's immaculately white and silver beaded frock. A hot rush of anger flashed through her; and a moment later, the wine bottle on the table shattered. 

“Oh!” Mrs. Antilles jumped up in alarm, causing the dishes to rattle and no doubt drew the attention of the entire dining room, but all Rey could do was stare at the spreading wine stain the cloth, trying to control her emotions. This wasn't the first time such a thing had happened. Waiters had descended upon the table and were hastily clearing it. There was a dull roaring in her ears; while it seemed to stretch on forever, it was only a handful of minutes as a new cloth was spread over the table. Back came the flowers, and a new basket of bread. New place settings – and a new bottle of wine.

“Your lunches will be replaced momentarily.” The skinny, sharped faced maitre'd hotel looked completely apologetic, and at the same time calm; as if bottles of wine shattering of their own accord was common place. Then again, maybe it was in this part of Europe.

_Take a deep breath, hold it – then let it go._

The voice graced over Rey's mind and it snapped her from her daze and she blinked, startled back to reality, trying to locate the speaker. 

“You all right there, kiddo?” Mrs. Antilles was lighting a cigarette, her face somewhat concerned. 

“I'm fine.” She took a sip of water, then did as the voice had suggested, and found that to her surprise, it worked. Taking another drink of water also helped. “The noise startled me more than anything.” 

“Hmm.” the woman scanned the room again, and as Rey looked out of the corner of her eye, she saw most people had gone back to their lunches, the incident forgotten. “Where did that young man get to?”

“Who?” She'd nearly forgotten whom they had been discussing before the breakage. She glanced to her left and saw a bit of black next to a pillar, then back at the door, noticing a rather distinguished looking woman, holding the hand of a small boy who couldn't be older than five. “Isn't that her grace, Princess Charlotte?” She recognized the woman from a painting she had seen only just the other day. 

Mrs. Antilles sucked in a breath and Rey was relieved that they hadn't still been eating, or the woman would be gone from this world, choked to death on her own luncheon of veal Marsala. She knew the woman wouldn't dare approach the young monarch; there was reaching within your social circle and then there was class-suicide. Approaching the heir presumptive was a crime of unforgivable standards, where society was concerned. But there was nothing to keep Mrs. Antilles from gawking. 

When a new plate of ravioli was slipped in front of her, Rey picked up her fork, relived to have something to keep herself occupied again. 

_How on Earth do you stand that insufferable woman?_ The voice graced across her mind and she frowned, not even certain whom was speaking to her. The accent wasn't a posh one, that she could tell. Instead, she stabbed a piece of pasta with a little more force than was necessary and resumed eating. 

*

Ben scanned the menu, trying not to think of the many pairs of eyes that kept turning towards him. The large pillar on his left kept him hidden from half the dining room, which was perfectly fine with him; and he half wished he had brought a book with him. When he'd entered the room, he'd felt the presence of another Force sensitive person almost instantly. From where he was sitting, he could see her almost perfectly, even with himself obscured mostly by the pillar. 

She was far too thin; the sort of thin that was not intentional, and he already knew the direct cause. Nearly all the young people today who had been children during the Great War had the same look about them. The waif-like figure that comes from a lack of decent food during some part of growing up. He could almost see his mother insisting that she have another slice of cake at tea, even after she'd already eaten a slice and a sandwich. He watched her furtively take another slice of bread from the basket, lightly buttering it before setting it down on her plate. 

He took a sip of water, and projected another line of thought to her. 

_Eat your lunch. If your mouth is full, you don't have to answer her, and she doesn't strike me as the type who would mind._

A waiter came over to his table, setting down his own basket of bread. “Good afternoon, monsieur.” His smile was somewhat forced; Ben could tell he had most likely endured more than his fair share of rude customers this afternoon. “What may I bring you to start with?” 

“Oysters Rockefeller, please. What is today's soup?” He hadn't paid the slightest attention to the marquee out front, if it had been listed, he'd been too stunned by the presence of the girl.

“Your choice of mushroom or cream of asparagus, monsieur.” He answered, “Our luncheon special is veal Marsala.” 

Ben scanned the menu one more, then handed it back to the man. “Braised partridge, with the mushroom soup, please.” 

“Of course, monsieur. May I bring you anything to drink?” He scribbled down his order.

“Whiskey. Neat.” He didn't meet the man's gaze as he wrote it down and walked away. He'd had other options of where he could have gone for his getaway, but every other place he had thought of, Italy, Greece, Spain – they all seemed wrong in his mind, and so here he was, in the tiny country of Monaco, a place that seemed so removed from the horrors of the Great War it might as well have never happened. If you didn't look to closely, you could ignore what was missing. But he could see it clearly; in the occupants of the tables, in the waitstaff, even in the band in the corner playing some jazz number he couldn't easily identify. 

Ben pinched the bridge of his nose, focusing his attention on shutting out the thoughts he heard racing around the room, but caught one, far too young for this crowd. He looked up to see a boy of about five sitting at the table across from his, and an elegantly dressed woman at his side. It took him a moment to recognize Princess Charlotte, and he inclined his head towards the boy who was watching him with wide blue eyes. 

The waiter returned with his drink and a soup plate, along with a basket of bread. He took up the glass and sat back, catching sight of the thin girl again. Perhaps coming here to Monte Carlo wasn't the mistake he was originally worried it was. 

*

After luncheon, Rey was relieved from duties when Mrs. Antilles decided that she needed a bit of a rest before attending the ballet this evening. It was a relief to have an afternoon to herself for a change, instead of endless games of bridge with her employer, or worse, going shopping and having to suffer through the indignity of the ladies in the shops giving her pitying smiles. Not for her station, as it was rather close to theirs; but the company she was keeping. Her flats clicked on the stone steps as she went down into the gardens, a place Mrs. Antilles avoided, claiming that the flowers brought on pounding headaches.

Quickly ducking behind a hedge, she leaned against a tall statue on a pedestal, taking several deep breaths. 

“You never answered my question.” A voice, one she had only heard in her mind spoke behind her and she jumped. There stood Benjamin Organa, his sallow face wearing a ghost of a smile. “I beg your pardon, Miss...”

“Andor.” She swallowed, trying to remember her manners. “Reyes Andor.” 

His eyebrows lifted in surprise; and he stepped back. “Cassian and Jyn's little girl?”

She bit her lip, nodding. Of course he would know who she was. Before Jedha closed, nearly all Force-sensitive children were identified and had their names written down for the school. The extent of her training in the Force consisted of keeping her temper in check; today wasn't the first time she'd caused something to shatter in anger. “She's my employer.” She squared her shoulders. “It could be far worse.” 

“Indeed it could.” He clasped his hands behind his back, pacing across the path, watching her. “And what exactly are you to her?”

“She's training me to become a companion.” She looked away, she couldn't recall the last time she'd been in such close proximity to another Force-sensitive person. It was unsettling; the country library she had grown up with yielded little information on the subject. “She pays me, ninety pounds a year.” She bit at her lip. “With the added bonus of travel.” 

“You're grossly underpaid.” Mr. Organa scoffed. “For a woman like that, it should be at least twice the amount, daily.” He stopped pacing and stared down at her. She hadn't noticed how tall he was earlier.

“I have little choice in the matter.” She looked away from his unnerving eyes. “Not all of us are afforded the luxury of options.” She felt herself flush; the circumstances of both of their lives weren't exactly something either of them could have hoped to control.

“I know exactly what you mean, Miss Andor.” His voice lost it's edge. “I know all to well.” He cleared his throat. “And for goodness sake, don't refer to me as Mr. Organa – that was my grandfather.” 

She smothered a giggle, forcing herself to look over at him. “I beg your pardon.” She bit at her lip. “However, if you'll excuse me sir, I was taught that reading people's minds was quite rude.” She flushed. “Not that I've ever been able to do it very well.” She felt her cheeks growing more and more pink. 

“You're more than welcome to call me Benjamin, Miss Andor, or may I call you Reyes?” He inclined his head, motioning down the path and she let herself relax. 

“Reyes is fine, Benjamin.” She looked down at her hands for a moment and then saw his arm out in front of her. Taking a breath, she set a hand on it and they started into the garden. “Mrs. Antilles means well, but I believe she doesn't understand that different countries require different manners. I'm still adjusting to tea being a light repast, instead of an actual meal.” 

“Does she know that you're Force sensitive?” His demeanor changed; she could feel the genuineness of his question. 

“No.” She made a small face. “Although I have felt the temptation to use what little I know during our games of bridge.” 

“I wouldn't judge you for doing so.” He smirked. “However, if your game suddenly drastically improved, she might get suspicious.” 

“True.” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I also dare say she'd want to pay a visit to the casino if she knew.” 

“I'd advise against it, nearly everyone working security there is force-sensitive. The only reason you haven't felt their presence is that they are masters at cloaking their signatures. So may I also state that I am stunned that none of them have sought you out yet.” He let out a breath. “I am relieved I was not holding anything when I came into the dining room this afternoon, or I would have certainly dropped it.” 

She flushed. “It's been a while since I caused something to explode.” 

“It was an accident.” He smiled down at her. “And I want to thank you for not mentioning that you saw where I was sitting. Although as to why, I would like to know.”

She didn't look at him, feeling the heat spread to her ears. “Mrs. Antilles is a wretched snob. I believe she wanted to find some sort of connection between her and yourself;she likes to feel connected to people who are... important.” 

“And why in Heaven would she consider me, _important_?” the last word was laced with venom.

“I believe because of Jedha.” She couldn't meet his eye, but she could feel the grief seeping off of him. “I'm sorry.” 

“No, don't apologize.” He sighed. “It was not my idea to close it, but my uncle's. After the war, he was... well, neither of us could think of new students coming to the school when so many people who had once roamed the halls were gone.” He took a breath. “Although my uncle recently took on a padawan. He believes it is best to start small, rather than just throwing the gates wide.” 

She nodded, not exactly certain what sort of response that merited. “So what has brought you to Monte Carlo?”

“I needed a change of scenery. My uncle feels I have spent time with my grief long enough.” His frowned. “I did hear of your father's passing, I am sorry.” 

“Thank you.” She didn't meet his gaze; he was exuding enough grief for the both of them. “He took me to see Jedha once, but we only stood outside at the gates.” She smiled at the memory.

“How old were you?” Ben's voice lightened. “You must have been very young.” 

“I had just turned eight.” She shot a look at him, before averting her eyes. “It was the spring before the War.”

He didn't reply, he merely nodded slightly, then shook his head, his mood and thoughts shifting off the subject. “So what happens to you when Mrs. Antilles tires of her companion?”

“There will be other Mrs. Antilles, I suppose.” She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. Rey certainly didn't want to think about the inevitable. “Or I'll use the skills I've learned working for her to use in another line of work.” 

“I believe just from however brief your time has been with her, you are already well equipped to run the complaint department of Macy's or Harrod's, depending on the country of your choice.” He chuckled, and she managed a smile as they came to a balcony overlooking the road that ran parallel to the beach, and beyond that, the aquamarine waters of the Mediterranean. “Surprising isn't it? How the blue the waters are here, when in England the beaches are all various shades of gray.” 

She leaned against the rail, looking out towards the sea. “When I was little, we went and saw my father's family in Spain. I thought something was wrong with the water when I saw how blue it was.”

He let out an absent chuckle. “I would someday like to see the waters that border Australia. I am told they are a shade of blue and green that cannot hope to be copied in any medium, from pastels to oils.” His eyes grew distant and Rey looked towards the water, her eyes darting towards families heading to the water together. “It's such a very long way from here.” 

“If you're going to go that far, you'd be a fool not to stop in India along the way.” She paused. “Or have you been?” 

“India?” He smiled. “I was born there, and left for Jedha when I was around ten. It was hot, almost the whole year round.” He took a breath. “I remember the first time I saw it snow. I ran outside with no coat or boots, lost in the wonder of something that many other scholars had grown up with. To me...” He straightened, his look almost embarrassed. “That's all in the past, now.” 

“I'm sorry.” She answered, not really knowing if that was correct or not. “Have you ever been back?”

He shook his head. “There's no one waiting in India, except old diplomats and green soldiers who still believe in the glory of the British Empire.” He gave her a wry look. “An Empire that I'm certain won't be there when this century is said and done.” 

She gave him a scathing look. “Such patriotism.” 

Ben laughed. “Patriotism is for Americans.” He shook his head, smiling. “No, I just believe that much like the days your employer is clinging to, so are many to the imperial ideals of the Victorian and Edwardian Eras. It's over and done, and we cannot have them again.” His face shifted. “There's darkness lurking in the remnants.” He shot her a look. “Or do you not sense it?”

Rey turned, leaning against the balustrade, hugging herself. “I've had trouble sleeping off and on since I was ten. I kept thinking I'd grow out of it, or something...” She sighed, feeling rather ashamed of admitting something so personal. 

“Sleep has been an elusive thing in my life as well.” He didn't look at her. “My uncle believes I need to let go of my grief, as he has done.” He smirked. “I know better than that. He's just as deep in his sorrow as I am, it just seems worse in me because I am not an old man, who is given allowances to mourn. Whereas I am young, and should be more resilient.” 

“I don't believe anyone ever stops grieving for a loss, they just become more adept at hiding their pain.” She couldn't look at him; the loss of her parents suddenly seemed fresh; as if the past few years had been condensed into a handful of days and their deaths were just last month. 

“How very astute of you, Miss Andor.” He held out a handkerchief towards her, and she took it, feeling her cheeks burn as she wiped at her eyes. “There have been days when I expect to see my friends at table, or pass one of my mentors in the halls of Jedha. But it's all for naught.” He pulled his hand back, slowly. “There are times I wish I was one with the Force with them, and then remember they would want me to live. But that is something I have trouble with.” 

She averted her gaze; he had such intense brown eyes. The sort that she didn't want to look into very long. It was unsettling. “We are prepared to lose the old, but not the young.” She took a breath. “I can still remember the day my father returned home from the war. I was both elated and the same time, felt horribly guilty that Papa had come home, when so many others had not.” She shook her head, managing a smile. “Mama and I didn't even know he was on his way back to England. He just... he was suddenly just there.” She felt her smile deepen. “He kept saying I couldn't be his little Reyes, because she was a small girl in braids, not the young lady who couldn't stop hugging him.” 

His hand came out and lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. “I can see it in your mind, Miss Andor.” His face faltered. “A long driveway – and massive trees. Where is that?”

“The estate house next to the village. It was a hospital during the War. Mama was a nurse, and I went there to read to the wounded.” She flushed. “The lady of the house asked the school to send the best readers, and I was among them.” She averted her gaze. “I don't want to upset you.”

“I'm not upset.” He smiled and let go of her. “I am happy that your father was able to come home to you and your mother, Reyes.” 

She nodded, still feeling uncertain. She wasn't even certain how she could start to say she was sorry for his own loss, which seemed unfathomable to her. 

“Thank you.” He answered, a slight grin on his face. “I'm sorry, I'm certain you didn't mean for me to catch that, but you have a tendency to think rather loudly.” he chuckled. “Come along, Miss Andor, there's plenty of garden for us still to walk through, and I believe we need to find a better topic for discussion.” 

“Quite.” She paused. “Have you been in Monte Carlo long, senior?” She winced as the Spanish slipped from her mouth before she registered what she had said.

“I arrived on the morning train, mademoiselle.” He returned the smile, clasping his hands behind his back and they began walking once more. “So tell me, what travesties have been done to teatime in this city by the sea?”

She couldn't avoid the grimace on her face. “Avoid the tomato sandwiches, whomever is making them has continually forgotten to blot the slices, rendering the bread soggy. I know a former chauffeur in Downton with more sense than that.” 

“How are the scones?” He chuckled. “They can't have ruined those.”

“I wouldn't know, Mrs. Antilles doesn't care for them, so they have not been ordered.” They walked down a small set of stairs and moved deeper into the gardens.

*

After Ben watched Reyes disappear on the lift, he'd had the strongest urge to pull her back. She'd declined his offer to share tea, stating that she had to look in on Mrs. Antilles and then prepare her for her evening out. An evening that the girl would not be participating in; her employer was headed out to the theater tonight – and taking the girl with her would be improper, or some other nonsense. He shook his head sadly and returned to his own room, leaning against the door, conflicted and somehow, lost. It had been the strangest afternoon he had spent in years. They had walked in the gardens for several hours, discussing things that he normally would have disdained as trivial; books, films, food – and somehow, it seemed almost perfect. 

The insane thing was, Miss Andor had seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say, and, in all honesty, it was refreshing to spend time with someone who didn't want to talk about his home, his family, his work as a Jedi – someone who actually wanted to know him, instead of just how the world viewed him. 

He pushed himself off from the door, suddenly realizing that while she may have declined his offer to join him for tea, he could still offer for her to join him for dinner. He walked over to the desk and drew a sheet of paper from his case, and uncapped his fountain pen, writing quickly before he could start to talk himself out of this. 

_Miss Andor,_

_Thank you for one of the most enjoyable and pleasant afternoons I have had in quite some time. You are an unexpected breath of fresh air in this city that seems to wear a permanent air of artificiality, and I would dearly love to spend more time in your company. As such, would you please give me the honor of joining me for dinner at seven-thirty this evening?_

He looked over what he had written, uncomfortable as always with the formality. The only person he'd ever really written letters to in the past were to family, and he'd written more condolence letters than someone his age should have to; this was all together different. He adjusted his hold on his pen and continued. 

_If you are previously engaged, I understand._

Engaged his foot; that cow of a woman Reyes worked for was leaving the girl behind for the evening, but he'd only just arrived in Monte Carlo late last night. Perhaps there was a whole group of companions, who, when given most of a night off, went out together to do – whatever it was young people did these days. Ben wasn't familiar with that sort of socialization. Not that he'd been spared from etiquette classes. A Jedi could hide their social class of origin with manners that were more impeccable than the Queen herself. 

_I look forward to seeing you soon, and thank you, again, for today's most enjoyable afternoon._  
_Sincerely yours,_  
_Benjamin_

He finished his signature with a flourish, glad that he had the foresight to not shorten his name. Familiarity was not yet between him and Miss Andor, and he smiled at the thought of _yet._ How many times had he heard the phrase _Will of the Force_ growing up? He'd loathed it before was even twelve. There was plenty of things had been so damn wrong, that hearing deaths, wars, disasters chalked up to the _Will of the Force_ made him want to rip his hair out. He was never certain which angered him more; when people said something was the Will of Force or the Will of God. 

All to often people who had few burdens were the ones who were always quick to espouse such epithets, along with 'life is not fair' and other blatantly obvious things. Although he'd never say it out loud, he felt that blaming the Great War on Germany was rather wrong, since it'd been a damn group of anarchists in Serbia who'd fired the first shot, angered Austria and before anyone could stop and _think_ for a bloody minute, the world collapsed into war. 

Ben rubbed at his temple as he pulled an envelope from his writing case and scrawled _Miss Andor_ on the front of it, not even certain what room she was staying in. Well, that loud woman she was with was infamous among the staff already; he'd heard several thoughts in several different languages in the short time he'd been here that made him feel that Reyes might as well be her keeper, instead of her companion. 

*

When Rey returned to Mrs. Antilles suite, she found the woman on the phone, talking to someone in an excited voice; happier than she'd heard her in several days. She shut the door quietly, not wanting to attract too much attention. No doubt she'd want to know how she spent her afternoon, and the last thing Rey needed was her employer to know was that she had spent time with Benjamin Organa. 

“So you've just arrived? And here you said you wouldn't cross the Atlantic ever again.” She laughed. “Oh Agatha, you are a dear.” Mrs. Antilles waved at her. “Oh, there's that girl I was telling you about. She's returned from wherever she disappeared to.” She lowered the receiver. “I'll be heading out for dinner tonight instead of eating in the hotel, Reyes. Do be a dear and press out my purple dress. The one with the gossamer sleeves.” 

“Yes, Mrs. Antilles.” She answered dutifully, holding back the face she wanted to make. She knew exactly what dress she was talking about and knew full well that said garment was designed to be on someone at least twenty years younger than her employer.

“Where did I find her? An agency suggested her to me, it was her or this mousy girl who couldn't string more than three words together.” How could one woman's voice be so shrill? She could remember the small girl in question, who had been one year her senior, who had also been paired with an even more appalling woman. “I don't know where she's from, somewhere in England. York or Surrey, one of those.”

Rey opened the wardrobe, keeping her mood as calm as she could, taking out the purple monstrosity and laying it out as her employer's voice carried towards her. 

“Reyes, what is the name of the town you grew up in?” Rather than shout a reply, she walked out of the dressing room and stopped at the foot of the bed.

“Downton, Mrs. Antilles, that is in North Yorkshire. My father and I moved to Epsom in Surrey after my mother passed away.” She answered politely, keeping her face calm as the woman opened her cigarette case. “Would you like me to go ensure you and your friend's reservation for dinner?”

She waved her hand dismissively in her direction. “Press the dress first, kiddo.” 

Rey turned and walked back into the dressing room, keeping her face calm. She had a feeling that Mrs. Antilles's ladies maid, whom had not come on the holiday, was enjoying every moment of free time she possibly could. She plugged in the small iron and set up the board, shaking her head. It wasn't that she hated her current line of work, it was that she hated working for Mrs. Antilles. Although it could be far worse, she reminded herself as she spread the skirt, running her fingers along the fine fabric. 

“What do you mean, Martha didn't come with you? I was counting on seeing her again!” There was a pause. “You mean to tell me that at forty-something her son _finally_ got married? To whom?” The woman let out a shriek that, had Rey not heard it before, would have been alarmed. “How old is this girl? Twenty? Good lord, what was that man thinking?” She snorted loudly. “My companion has more sense than that!” 

She made a face in the direction of the main room, knowing that Mrs. Antilles couldn't see her. She didn't think sense had much in matters of marriage when it came to the class that her employer belonged to. How many marriages were there that were strictly based on the pursuit of improving one's station or fortune in life? Since she didn't expect to ever get married, she really couldn't say if she would or wouldn't run off and marry someone ten or twenty years her senior. Perhaps this Martha's new daughter-in-law was expecting a baby and the last place she wanted to be is away from her family. 

Rey ran the iron the long way down the skirt, smoothing out the wrinkles that seemed to form on the frock no matter how carefully she hung it up. It would _help_ if Mrs. Antilles could be more careful with her clothes, she herself had taken better care of her garments when she was a child. She winced as her stomach growled; her decline of tea with Benjamin hadn't been easy. If her employer had plans for the evening, tea was always skipped; and she was left hungry until dinner, and even when that came, it was always something modest and light. Luncheon was typically their big meal of the day, but after shattering the wine bottle, she'd had trouble getting her ravioli down. 

She pulled back the iron and shook the dress out after removing it from the board. “That's finished.” Unplugging the iron, she came back into the main room just as Mrs. Antilles hung up the phone. 

“Apparently I must wait until the summer to see Martha again. If I feel like going to Providence when the time comes.” She gave Reyes a worn smile. “You are such a dear.”

She laid the dress carefully over the back of a chair. “It was my pleasure, Mrs. Antilles.” 

“Well, now...” she stamped out a cigarette, not looking at her. “Run along to the desk and confirm the reservation for myself and Mrs. Hattersley at Antonio's for seven-fifteen, and check for any mail. Perhaps Adeline has written.” 

Reyes nodded, keeping her face passive. Adeline was Mrs. Antilles's daughter, whom she was already dreading meeting. “Of course.” She went out into the main room, grabbing her key from where she had left it on the desk and opened the door, coming face to face with a bellboy was about to knock on it. “Madame is in the bedroom.” She didn't even bother to look at the silver salver in his hand.

The dark haired boy shook his head, trembling slightly, holding the tray out towards her. “It's for you, mademoiselle.”

She took the note from the salver, thoroughly confused. Certainly Mr. Organa wouldn't... “Thank you.” She frowned at the unfamiliar, but rather beautiful handwriting on the front of the envelope, addressed to _Miss Andor_ , the final legs of the M and the A scrawled to go under the rest of the letters. A strange tingling went up her spine as she flicked it open, drawing out the note and scanning the short letter. She glanced back at the bedroom, where she could hear her employer getting out of bed, groaning. Smiling, she turned back to the bellhop. “Tell Mr. Organa I will be there, seven thirty.” 

He nodded, “Oui, mademoiselle.” he went slightly pink before bowing slightly and he went one way down the corridor while she went the opposite, a slight spring in her step. She would leave after Mrs. Antilles and be back to their suite well before the woman returned. It didn't occur to her that there was anything wholly improper about accepting the invitation. It wasn't like she was going to waltz into the dining room and sit down at a table with whomever she wanted. 

This was nothing more than a continuation of their conversation from this afternoon.


	2. Chapter 2

The dining room was less than half full, and to Ben, that was perfect. It wasn't that he didn't want anyone to see him and Miss Andor together, far from it. He just wanted to avoid people as nosy and gossipy as the woman she was staying with. He reached out with the Force, ever so slightly, and brushed against Reyes own signature, just as she came off the elevator. Darling girl was nervous; and he frowned slightly, looking over the top of his menu, trying to determine where her fear was located. Perhaps dinner was bit daunting as a meal to share; but the fact remained, either they shared a table, or they would both be sitting in this room, alone at their respective tables. 

If Miss Andor was more adept with her abilities, they could carry on an entire conversation mentally and no one would know. 

Something to ponder. 

He set his menu down as he saw her appear in the doorway, and he smiled. Reyes was wearing a blue frock, her hair in a single knot at the nape of her neck. There was silver beading along the neckline and over the shoulder sleeves, with a long band going towards the bottom hem. He noticed that there was an odd seam, about where it fell past her knees; a tale-tell sign that the hem had been let down. He set the menu aside and stood as the waiter led her over to his table, pulling out the chair for her before the waiter could. “Good evening.” 

Her cheeks went slightly pink. “Good evening.” She sat down, the blush spreading from her cheeks to her ears.

Ben sat back down as the waiter set a menu in front of Reyes and filled her water glass, bowing slightly before he left. “Did Mrs Antilles head off to the ballet without difficulty?”

Reyes picked up her menu, her smile more certain. “Her lament is that one of her friends has remained in the States, rather than coming to Monaco.” She took a sip of water. “Her friend has elected to get to know her new daughter-in-law better rather than journey across the Atlantic.” 

“Poor Mrs. Antilles, realizing now that her friends aren't as co-dependent as she is.” He scanned the hors d'œuvres list, frowning. “Or are they just like her?”

“I wouldn't know, I haven't yet had the pleasure of meeting any.” She smiled rather nervously. “In addition to being a snob, she's a wretched gossip.” She ducked her head. “Not that I should say such things about my employer.” 

“Your candor is refreshing, Reyes. Far too many women these days shy away from the truth, choosing to be alluring in a world where such things are for the moving pictures, not reality.” He looked back down at the menu for a moment. “I believe food is one subject we have not yet discussed, apart from tea sandwiches.” He smiled. “Although they did not seem to be serving them today.” 

“I'm afraid I didn't have tea this afternoon.” She grimaced as her stomach gave off an audible grumble. “Pardon me.” 

“No tea? You poor thing, you must be famished.” He answered as the waiter came towards their table. “How is the onion soup here, have you had it?”

Reyes eyes brightened. “So good you'll wish the bowl was bigger.” She smothered a giggle. “I'm sorry to be so forward, Mrs. Antilles is forever harping on me about it.” She looked back down at the menu, her cheeks still pink. “And please, don't read my mind.” 

“You are far from being forward. Your employer doesn't know the meaning of the word. I won't read your thoughts on purpose. But you do think quite loudly.” He smiled as the blush spread from her cheeks to her ears. “And I agree, Steak Frites does sound delicious. Hopefully, the chef here will actually understand the meaning of the word rare in regards to meat.”

She ducked her head. “Mrs. Antilles has insisted I have my meat done the same as hers. Which is about two steps up from boot leather.” She lifted her chin. “But I eat it anyway, because there are children starving in Armenia and China, and I shouldn't complain.”

“Meat prepared in such a fashion is the food of dogs, Miss Andor.” He replied as the waiter came to their table, and he caught a flicker of a thought from the young man; _what is she doing, sitting with him?_ He squared his shoulders. Pompous ass. “We will have the onion soup, the spinach salad, stuffed mushrooms, steak frites – rare for both of us, and the pear and cheese dessert.” 

“Oui, monsieur.” The man scribbled down their order, casting another odd look at Reyes as he took their menus and then retreated to the kitchen.

“Don't.” Reyes whispered to him as soon as the waiter was gone. “I'm used to such treatment, it doesn't bother me.” 

“Just because you don't mind doesn't make it right.” He shook his head, sitting back in his chair slightly, taking a sip of water. “The War did more damage than is noticed sometimes. The dream the world was in has ended, and suddenly, social classes are trying to sort themselves out.” He grasped the edge of the table, using it to ground himself. “In the trenches, it didn't matter if you were a footman or the heir to an estate, we all bled and fought together. Such things bind people, Miss Andor. Going back to what one was before, is impossible.”

She took a sip of water, looking more at it than him. “My father never slept when it rained at night. I pretended not to notice, but I knew. I would hear him pacing in the living room.” She set her glass down. “The next morning, the ashtray would be full and he'd have rings around his eyes. I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say.” 

Ben understood about rain; he didn't pace at night, but he had lain awake for hours, just listening to the storm, waiting for it to end so he could turn over, and find slumber once more. “You mentioned this afternoon that you have family in Spain. Are they still there?”

“No, they immigrated to Miami before the War. Or rather, some did and those that remained died of the Influenza.” She tightened her grip on her water glass. “After my father died, I had originally planned to join them, but my grandfather's solicitor was adamant that I remain in England. Before Mrs. Antilles, I was a live-in companion for a Mrs. Kenyon.” She sat back as the waiter returned, setting bowls of steaming soup in front of them, as well as a basket of toasted bread. 

“How was that?” He took the napkin up from the table and spread it across his lap, watching Reyes do the same. “Was she anything like your current employer?”

“No. Mrs. Kenyon was elderly, and kept to her bed most days. I spent a good deal of time reading to her.” She took up her spoon. “When the family decided to sell the dowager house where she lived, I was given notice and packed my bags. The day after Madame, as I always called her, moved into a room on the family estate, I was headed on a train to London.” She broke the layer of cheese on her soup. “That was five months ago, and now I'm here.” 

Ben watched her eat for a few moments, holding his own spoon, smiling to himself. It was a strange thing; of all the things the War had changed, neither of them seemed to speak or be bothered on the rather large change that there was between the two of them right now. Before, it would be unthinkable for anyone of his class to share a table with Reyes's class and have it be _accepted_. Apart from the waiter, no one was staring, no one else in the dining room was thinking or whispering about the two of them.

Thank god for people who minded their own bloody business.

_Eat your soup before it gets cold Benjamin._

He jolted and nearly dropped his spoon as the girl spoke clearly in his mind, and he smiled as he broke into his own serving of soup. Reyes was right; it was excellent.

*

It was half-past nine when Reyes let herself into Mrs. Antilles's suite. The woman hadn't returned, and she quickly changed out of her dinner frock and into a more sensible one. She carefully hung the garment up, not wanting to wrinkle it. She had been given the dress by Mrs. Kenyon's granddaughter, most of her clothes had come from that family; and she didn't mind wearing second-hand. Once she was finished, she went back into the main room to set things to rights. The routine was like clockwork. Empty the ashtrays, put all the rubbish into one bin, set that bin by the door to be put out for the night, turn down Mrs. Antilles's bed, set out her nightclothes and bed-jacket, straighten things up.

It was like working for an overgrown child at times.

Dinner had been wonderful and strange.

Strange in that it was the first meal she could recall in recent memory where she wasn't just there to be talked to or about, but actually part of the conversation. The sole person to be conversed with that wasn't idle chitchat and having to be compliant and docile. She and Benjamin had talked about seemingly mundane things, much like earlier in the afternoon, but it was different. Perhaps the time of day and the dress, the meal, the sheer formality of it all...

She fell back on her own bed, letting out a rather silly sigh, recalling just how handsome Ben had looked this evening; and she almost felt embarrassed at her thoughts. She wasn't the type of young lady who turned into a simpering idiot around an attractive man. Well, outside of a cinema. It was perfectly all right then; she wasn't alone and she had seen some girls practically fall out of their chairs at some of the things that graced the silver screen. 

Reyes swung herself back upright, then went into the washroom to clean up. Tomorrow her routine would return, and she would be fortunate enough to see Benjamin in passing. Mrs. Antilles's was starting to grow bored with Monte Carlo, she could tell. It was only a matter of weeks, if not days, before the woman stated they were packing up and heading somewhere else. Paris, which would be similar to here, but with less fresh air, London wouldn't be so bad, she could stand carrying boxes and bags from store to store while her employer gathered up gifts for her daughter and grandchildren. Boston. Mrs. Antilles's home. The uncertainty of that was worst of all. “Get a hold of yourself.” She muttered, taking up a towel and rubbing it against her face. At least the woman wouldn't take it in her mind to go to Bombay or Perth.

There was far, and then there was too damn far. 

Sighing, she hung up the towel, then double checked the room for anything else that was out of place before retrieving her sewing kit from her own side room and setting it on a side table, and put the stack of Mrs. Antilles's mending on the sofa. “Children take better care of their clothing.” she muttered as she went over to the gramophone and selected a record. If there was one thing positive about her employer, it was that she loved jazz music. However, Mrs. Antilles would, no doubt, send her in search of a music store, if there were any to be found in Monte, for some new material before the next week was out. 

She took up her usual seat in the stiffed back chair and settled into her work, her foot tapped out the rhythm of the melody, and she found herself humming along as she repaired the torn hem of Mrs. Antilles's second favorite gown. Like most of her dresses, the garment was a better match for someone younger. Reyes would not have known about fashion at all had she not grown up seeing the stark differences in the apparel of those around her. While her own frocks were several years out of style, she didn't complain, and it didn't matter to her. 

She cut off a thread at the exact same moment the door of the suite slapped open. Reyes immediately set her work aside and came over to Mrs. Antilles who was struggling with her hat. “Here, let me help.” She spoke softly, shutting the door quickly and then gently untwisted the woman's hair from the hatpin that had become tangled in it. 

“Oh thank you.” Mrs. Antilles let out a worn breath. “The ballet was a bit of bust. It wasn't the company from Czechoslovakia at all. You know about them, of course, the ones that fled Russia before the Communists took over.” She let out a derisive snort as Reyes finally freed the pin and pulled the hat off. “It was some no-name troupe from Austria.”

“How disappointing, Mrs. Antilles.” She set the hat down and then helped the woman out of her coat. “Was the orchestra decent, at least?”

“Rubbish. Who on Earth goes to the ballet for the music?” She gave her a pointed look.

Reyes managed a smile. “The blind?” She offered. 

The woman chuckled, walking across the room, pausing to look back at her. “Please tell me you wore something different when you went down to dinner.” 

“Yes, Mrs. Antilles. Should I ring for some tea?” She asked, noticing that for some reason, she seemed paler than normal, even with all of her make-up. She'd see how the woman looked in the morning; maybe she was imagining it. If she wasn't, she should probably convince the woman to have the doctor check her over.

The woman covered a cough. “Yes, dear. Thank you.” She turned and gave her a wan smile. “You should get some sun tomorrow. You could use some color, Reyes.” She went over to her dressing table and started to remove her jewelery. “Go to the beach, or work on your tennis game.” She tapped her nails on the wooden surface as Reyes went over to the telephone. “And send a request for the doctor to come by tomorrow morning.” 

She paused with her hand over the receiver. Had she just put that idea into the woman's head? Reyes took a breath. “Do you want anything to eat with your tea, Mrs. Antilles?”

There was a loud thump as the art deco bracelet the woman always wore in the evening fell to the table. “Bread and butter, kiddo.” She offered a wan smile. “Sometimes the simplest things are the best things.” 

“Yes, Mrs. Antilles.” She answered, then picked up the telephone.

The gramophone played on, unnoticed by either of them.

*

The Jedi had not been sent to the war as Jedi, but as loyal citizens of the countries they served, whether they were armed with a carbine in the trenches or with the scalpel in field hospitals. The War had thrown the Force into chaos, with the numbers of causalities, the outpouring of emotions; it had been trying to swim through mud. Then came the Influenza, which decimated the ranks even further. Much like the War, the illness made no distinction between whom it killed and whom it passed by. 

Ben stared up at the ceiling of his room, sleep once more illusive. He focused on his breathing, and let his eyes fall half-closed, reaching out with the Force, and slowly, like the picture coming up in the movie theaters, the hotel began to take shape in his mind's eye. It flickered, then came into focus. A porter was moving down the corridor, pushing a trolly loaded with trunks. He was thinking about Mary Pickford's smile. Across the hall, an elderly couple was snoring, their breathing in perfect sync, and stretching to the next suite, a man was writing to his wife while his mistress slept in the next room. In the corners of his vision, brighter lights went on, and he turned towards them, reaching out – and found a Force-sensitive employee at the desk, checking train departures for tomorrow, and the second – was Reyes.

She was two floors above him – _directly_ – above him. 

Grumbling, he turned over onto his side, but he couldn't leave the fact that she was there. It was rather insane, for someone he had met less than twelve hours ago, how much she had started to dominate his thoughts. Maybe it was because she was one of the few Force-sensitive people he had come across in recent years that wasn't a veteran of the war. She was something – something he hadn't seen in over a decade. He buried his face into the pillow, the normally comforting scent of lavender for naught. Perhaps it would be more bearable if he knew that it wasn't a temporary acquaintance. It was only a matter of time before Mrs. Antilles packed her bags and left Monte, and Reyes would be stumbling along behind her, laden with the cases that the woman didn't trust porters with – and it would be over. 

In his mind, Ben could see the whole thing perfectly; the station car pulling out of the circle drive of the hotel and he would watch it go, standing in the window of this room, feeling Reyes's Force signature fluctuate in her own despair, until it became faint with distance, both of them once more alone. Perhaps they would write letters; but even that wasn't a certainty. The lingering feeling that was still on the edges of his awareness was certain to grow. Rey felt it too; he knew that. If – when – she went across the Atlantic, something told him that there, she would be safe. 

But that was really the last place he wanted her to be. Safe be damned, such a strong, untapped talent like hers should be at Jedha. “This is madness.” He said aloud. He had known her for less than a day, and he already didn't want to let her go. How many more like Rey were there? Left unschooled and alone because there wasn't a place for them to go anymore? The schools in Germany, Russia and France were gone; gutted by wars and revolution. Jedi were seen as Imperial and were still being hunted in parts of eastern Europe. 

He closed his eyes, and tumbled into the dream almost without realizing it. 

Ben found himself standing on the steps of Jedha, watching as a car came up the drive; more of an enclosed truck, the canvas tied down tightly over it, he could hear the gravel crunching under the vehicle's tires. Despite its size, the car wasn't riding low, telling him that its load was relatively light. It was late Summer; the grass was a faded shade of green from a long, hot season and the leaves had a similar appearance, but the sky was full of clouds, heavy with rain that was ready to burst forth and end the drought. 

He wasn't alone, a man stood next to him, his face a mix of concern and anticipation. It took him a moment to recognize who it was; Finn, his uncle's current apprentice. A little older than he was now, how long, he wasn't certain. His conversations with the man at this point had been short and congenial, nothing more than casual conversation. He looked over at Ben, a ghost of a smile on his face. “Do you know how many are expected?” 

Who was expected?

Ben turned back as the truck turned so that it was now facing back towards the gate and the driver quickly got out, nodding towards him. Was that Mr. Dameron, the estate agent? Well, that at least made some sense – but where had this car from?

Something grasped his hand and he started, looking down to see that there was a small child standing at his side, her black hair in two braids that fell down her back. The child made less sense than the truck. He looked back towards the drive to see more children climbing slowly out of the back; seven of them in total. Their ages between eight and twelve. Four boys and three girls, their expressions wide and their place of origin impossible to tell. None of them appeared to be siblings to another one, and someone came around from the other side of the truck, and an eighth child emerged, jumping into the person's arms. He could tell neither age nor gender of that child. Two of the seven facing him had yellow stars stitched onto their coats. 

“Mama!” The girl at his side broke her hold on him and ran towards the figure that had just put down another small girl; and the woman turned, with open arms to catch her child. She swung her up in an embrace, pressing her face into the little girl's hair. 

“They're here now, Ben.” Finn directs this at him, his face now clearly relieved. “Safe and sound.” He goes towards the group, all of whom seem to be wary of both him and Finn, and are looking around with wide eyes. The little girl who had been with him is holding both hands of the eighth child, jabbering away excitedly, but he can tell from the other girl's expression, she understands very little of what is said. 

Confused as ever, he made his way towards the group as Poe started dropping satchels and boxes from the back of the truck. He can hear a spattering of languages he can identify; Polish, French, Spanish, German. Then he feels it; flashes of the Force sing out from all the children, a collection of signatures that had, a moment ago been muted and hidden, now shining with all the radiance of the summer sun above them.

One of the boys, the oldest of the group?, turned to look at him, his blond hair sticking out in all directions under his pageboy hat. The yellow star on his coat has a word stitched in black on it – _Jude_ – he steps forward, looking directly at him. “You're coming for us, aren't you Meister Organa?” 

He bolted upright in bed, covering his scream with his hand. In his mind, he could hear the wail of an infant, distant, but distinct. “Who are you?” He whispered to the darkness of the room; the only reply was the ticking of his alarm clock. 

*

Reyes felt somewhat guilty as she walked down to the shoreline. The doctor had come round early this morning, and diagnosed Mrs. Antilles with a mild case of influenza, and, not letting her get a word in, set orders for a private nurse to take care of her employer. Once the nurse had shown up, she had been dismissed by both her and Mrs. Antilles. The woman needed her rest, but before she left, the nurse had instructed her to be back by teatime. But that was hours away. She had only returned once to the room since her dismissal, and that had been to collect her swimming attire and a towel. 

For a moment, she stood at the edge of the water, letting the waves wash over her feet, curling her toes in the sand. It was hard to imagine that while it was the exact same day in March both here and in England, such pleasures wouldn't be enjoyed at home for three more months. The Mediterranean was a glorious shade of blue and green, and she took a few steps into the water, until it was above her ankles. Even the water was warm. As she strode through the sea until it was at her knees, she stretched and smiled as a breeze swept past her, and then, suddenly, felt something on the edges of her mind. Frowning, she turned back to the beach. 

Standing just out of the water was Ben Organa, watching her. Having only seen him in formal attire, it was almost comical to see him in a grey and green stripped swimsuit. Even from here, she could see his smirk; she knew that her swim-dress was modest enough; and she lifted her chin as he started out into the water towards her. “Good afternoon, Miss Andor.” He looked her over again, and she felt her cheeks flush. 

“Good afternoon.” She walked a little deeper into the water, so that she was up to her waist. The waterline fell at his mid-thigh. “I wasn't expecting to see you out here.” 

“Nor I you.” He looked towards the beach. “And Mrs. Antilles?”

“Sick in bed, I'm afraid.” She ducked her head, not wanting to remember what happened last night. “Her nurse instructed me to leave, but to make sure I returned in time for tea.” She pushed a loose strand of hair out of her face. “Mrs. Antilles is becoming rather bored with Monte. Even though we've only been here for a month. Although now that she's being fussed over, she'll tolerate it a while longer.”

He took a few more steps into the water, frowning. “I left Jedha under half a foot of snow. The idea of just being in the ocean in bathing attire seemed ridiculous. Yet, here we are.” He looked her over and Reyes felt her cheeks flush. “What's wrong?”

“What do you mean?” She took another deep breath. “Why would you think something is wrong?”

“I can see it in your face, Reyes. Something's worrying you. Is Mrs. Antilles's more ill than you have told me?”

She shook her head. Who knew, maybe he could help her sort it out. “Last night, when Mrs. Antilles came back to the suite, I noticed that she didn't look all that well, and I thought that I might suggest today that she have the doctor come round. Instead, not five minutes later, she told me to call the doctor in the morning. It was... unsettling.”

“I see.” Ben reached out and lifted her chin. “You're worried you put the idea in her mind, I take it?”

She nodded. “I know, silly, isn't it?”

“No, and it's not too far out of the realm of possibility. For as batty as the woman makes you, Reyes, you still care for Mrs. Antilles's well being.” He pulled away, regarding her thoughtfully. “So you have a bit of a holiday from your... holiday.” 

“I suppose I do.” A wave came in towards them and she braced herself, even though she knew it would pass well under her. “I don't expect it to last long.” 

“Then we must make the most of it.” His whole demeanor changed and she gave him a curious look.

“We?” She frowned. “What do you mean?”

He smiled. “Miss Andor, can you swim?”

She gave him a stern look. “Do you think I'd be out here in the water if I couldn't?”

Ben held out his hand. “Come on.” 

She took it, still frowning. “What are you up to?” His hand dwarfed hers; and his fingers grasped hers tightly. “Benjamin?”

“It's still winter in England. We're here, in Monte, in our _swim clothes_.” He started walking further from the shore, pulling her along behind him. “It'd be a crime and a sin to waste such opportunity.” 

“Not... not too deep, I am shorter than you!” Reyes cried as the water came up to her chest, then over it, and he finally stopped when she was up to her shoulders, and she was about ready to start treading water. 

“Here we are.” He pulled his hand away, and she lamented the loss. “Feet still touching?”

Reyes curled her toes in the soft sand, nodding. A wave broke over the pair, leaving them both soaked. She spluttered and blinked, having gotten a face-full of seawater. “That was....” Another wave came at them, and she felt his hands come up and hold her elbows. “What are you doing?” 

“Lift your feet, Miss Andor. I've got you.” He was standing behind her now, the grip on her arms firm, but barely there. Rather than protest, she did as bid, and her toes came out from under the water. How were things like bare feet and toes considered scandalous when gowns could be cut low or have hems that barely reached the knee? She wiggled her feet, and she heard Ben laugh behind her. “They're pretty toes, Reyes.” 

“You shouldn't say such things.” A giggle escaped her lips as she felt him move, turning her around in the water, so she was facing the shore and he was stepping further away from it, pulling her along with him. “Don't take us too deep!” She was ready to twist out of his grip when his arms came fully around her and her shoulders made contact with his chest. “What are...” Her words died in her throat as she felt his leg brush against hers and a moment later, his feet came out of the water as well and now they were floating back towards the shore. The next wave pressed her back against him and she wasn't certain if she imagined his lips against her ear or not. 

*

The dream came again that night. Ben had hoped that it had been a one off; or that the events of the day would keep his thoughts settled and quiet. But it was to no avail; the swim with Reyes; along with a late luncheon, compounded with the promise of seeing her tomorrow were swept away as sleep found him and the Force demanded to be heard once more. 

While things had changed within the confines of the dream, he knew it was the same; the same feeling of dread filled him, a nagging worry. Once more, he found himself on the steps of Jedha, watching a car approach. Not the truck this time, but a black sedan. The child who had held his hand the previous night was now in his arms, her own slung around his neck. 

It's later in the day; the sky is purple over blue. Twilight. The sun, although no longer visible, still offered some light. The car came around the sweep of the drive and came to a stop. “Let go, Dragonfly.” He crouched down and the small girl released her grip, and the two of them came down the steps to meet the car, just as the driver – once again, it was Mr Dameron – quickly got out and opened the door, and was almost knocked over by a small child exiting the interior. She was followed by the blond haired boy, who stepped out with a silent resignation and he grasped the little girl's hand, and she instantly stilled. While there was no physical resemblance between them, Ben could see that whomever the boy was, he felt responsible for the girl. 

Finally, a woman exited the car, her cloth hat askew. She set a hand on Mr. Dameron's arm as she got out, and the little girl Ben had been holding instantly threw her arms around her legs. “Mama! Mama! You're home!”

“Yes, Dragonfly.” The woman brushed her hair. “Did you get taller while I was gone?” 

He shook his head as the woman shut the door and Poe went towards the rear of the car, where several suitcases were tied. He righted the woman's hat before she could. “How long has it been like that?”

“Hats are such silly things, aren't they?” She replied, then lifted her face to look into his. It was Reyes. 

Ben sprang awake, breathing hard. A fraction of a second later, he heard her voice in his head as clearly as if she was sitting in the bed with him.

_“What in Heaven's name was that?”_

He swallowed, then focused for a moment before answering. _“Same dream?”_

 _“I.... who were those children?”_ Reyes sounded more scared than he would have liked; and quite honestly, the fact that the two of them were conversing like this was almost as disturbing. _“What's going on?”_

 _“I don't know. And that worries me.”_ He ran a hand through his hair, his mind still racing. _“Try and go back to sleep. We'll discuss this at luncheon tomorrow, agreed?”_

 _“Agreed.”_ There was a pause, and he swore he heard her let out a soft giggle; the same sort she had made when he had remarked on her toes this afternoon. _“I suppose this could be considered improper.”_

He shook his head. _“Get some rest, young lady. This isn't like a party line on a telephone, and I'm too stunned that you're able to do this with next to no training, than I am that we're having a conversation at three in the morning.”_

 _“What, are you offering to teach me?”_ The last sentence was followed by a wave of embarrassment at her abruptness; and at being so forward. 

_“Go to sleep. We'll discuss **that** at luncheon as well.” _He sighed as he laid back down, pressing his face into the pillow. If his uncle had foreseen any of this and had sent him off to Monte knowing what was waiting for him... “Who am I kidding? Of course he bloody well knew.” He shut his eyes and clutched at the bedclothes; it was unthinkable for himself and Reyes to have any sort of relationship, they'd only known each other a day. This was only happening because Reyes was the first Force-sensitive woman he'd come across in years. 

Bloody Force; the root of all his strengths and sorrows. 

*

Reyes laid awake in her bed for at least an hour after the dream had woken her. She wasn't certain what Benjamin had seen in his; she had no idea who or where the two children had come from; or the third, who had called her mama. She hadn't had any dream similar in the past; although she'd had plenty of running down unfamiliar corridors, never quite knowing if she was the pursuer or the prey. Returning to sleep had proven difficult, not just for the dream, but for the fact that she had carried out a conversation – _in her head_ – with a man, in the middle of the night. 

When she headed down to breakfast in the morning, she brought her hat and bag with her, having been given a list by Mrs. Antilles of things she wanted fetched and brought back before tea this afternoon. She would gather the requested items before luncheon. She was certain that someone would remark on her tired look; but she knew there was another bonus of having been nothing more as a shadow, or 'the help' – it made you invisible to nearly everyone. 

“Good morning, mademoiselle.” the waiter politely said as he pulled her chair out. “Tea or coffee this morning?” 

“Coffee, please.” she gave him a wan smile, it was the best she could manage at the moment.

“Of course.” He nodded and turned the cup at her place right side up and filled it, starting for a moment and spilled some into the saucer as Benjamin Organa sat down across from Reyes without a thought. “Monsieur?” 

“The same.” He indicated the coffee pot and the rather flustered waiter quickly filled his cup as well, then set down two menus, a basket full of croissants, and pot of jam, before hastily retreating across the room.

“I beg your pardon?” Reyes gave the man a look. “Just because it's quarter of nine in the morning...”

Benjamin took a sip of coffee before he answered. “I don't give a damn what time it is. Furthermore, anyone who would object to this is currently still abed. And I don't give a damn about what they think either.” 

She squared her shoulders and picked up her own cup, frowning over the rim. “If you wanted to reschedule our meal today, you could have simply asked.” She took a sip of coffee, wincing at the bitterness. 

He set the cup down, his expression lightening somewhat. “I do apologize, Miss Andor. I'm... I'm at a bit of a loss how to approach the situation we are currently in. This is not something that has happened in my past, and I do not recall reading about a similar situation in my studies.” He let out a breath. “As for rescheduling, I would like to spend as much of our day together as possible.”

Reyes pulled a croissant from the basket, the uneasy feeling in her stomach slowly settling. “And what is it you think is going on here?”

“The Force.” He picked up his menu, his expression softened, if only a fraction. “And I believe you need a teacher.” 

She went pink. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“You asked me last night if I was offering to teach you the ways of the Force. Consider this as my declaration that you were correct, and a confirmation. Granted, we do not know how much time we have together, so we will do the best with what we have.” He looked back at the menu. “Are you going to have eggs this morning?” 

She had to make sure her jaw wasn't hanging open at his words. It'd been the middle of the night when she made that statement, and certainly such things couldn't be taken seriously, could they? She felt her cheeks flush again; she couldn't deny that learning just a little about the Force, more than what she'd gleaned from books borrowed from the library had told her. She took another drink of coffee before looking back at her menu. “Fried eggs do sound delicious. If you want a proper English breakfast, you will not find it here, well, you can, if you can do without the beans.”


	3. Chapter 3

The next few weeks seemed to go by in a handful of days. Rey woke up on a sunny Thursday and realized, much to her shock, it was already the middle of April. She had not been neglecting her job; far from it. Her mornings were devoted to Mrs. Antilles and her errands, and her afternoons had been solely spent with Mr. Organa. Evenings, sadly, had remained unpredictable. Sometimes, she was with her employer, terrified that someone on the staff would slip up and ask her about her interactions with Benjamin – how Mrs. Antilles could remain oblivious was almost as impossible to believe it was that no one else had told her – and if not with the woman in the suite, she was dining with him. They had not gone swimming again, much as she would have liked to, but they had gone wading, standing in the warm sea up to their knees, cooling their feet after a long walk. 

It was starting to get hot.

The change in the weather, more than anything else, was an alert to Reyes that all of this was very shortly going to come to an end. She frowned down into her teacup, noting that Mrs. Antilles was being exceptionally quiet over breakfast; something that set off another alarm in her mind. Ill or not, the woman normally talked non-stop. She set down her fork, her meal of fried eggs and bacon finished and she side-eyed the toast, still peeking out from the basket, but knew better than to try and eat it. “Is something wrong, Mrs. Antilles?” 

“Absolutely nothing's wrong, kiddo.” She looked up as she put down the letter she had been absorbed in since she finished eating, smiling. “That bothersome nurse is finally gone, and I tell you, I'm glad of it.” She tucked a stray curl behind her ear, looking rather comical in her bed jacket and boudoir-cap, her opera-length cigarette holder dangling from one hand; bringing to mind some Hollywood Starlet, not middle-aged rich widow. The bright pink robe was borderline gaudy; it never made any sense to Reyes why someone who could afford such expensive clothes didn't make sure the colors and prints were flattering. Then again, if you had more money than you knew what to do with, did it really make a difference? “How does Boston sound to you?”

Reyes thought it sounded like death. “Boston?” She managed politely, her heart already falling to her feet. “Isn't it still cold there?”

“It won't be for long!” the woman stood up, brandishing the letter again. “Adelaide tells me now, after knowing for nearly six months, that she's expecting a baby in June. That's decided me. We're packing up, leaving on the morning train tomorrow for Paris!” She stubbed out the cigarette in the butter dish then tossed the holder down as she stood and pulled off her cap.“I have some shopping to do, and come Sunday, we're sailing to the States!” 

“Tomorrow?” Her voice cracked, wondering if Ben, in his suite two floors below had picked up on her despair. She straightened her shoulders, doing her best to keep her composure. “Of course, Mrs. Antilles.” 

“Tell you what, I'll help you out by putting the library books in a stack for you to return.” She came back into the room, shoving a sheet of paper into her hands. “List of things I need you to do. Hurry back, so you can get started on the packing.” 

“Yes, Mrs. Antilles.” She glanced at the paper for a moment. “I'll be back as quick as I can.” She tucked the sheet into her pocket, glad that she'd at least there was a chance for good-bye. She grabbed her key, and headed for the door as she heard the woman pick up the phone behind her. It took all her resolve not to slam the door and as soon as it shut behind her, and she walked, calmly as she could, towards the elevator.

This time tomorrow, she'd be on a train heading north, holding Mrs. Antilles's jewel case on her lap, listening to the dull roar of the train and her employer's shrill laughter. This had been far too wonderful, and now, she and Benjamin would be reduced to letter writing, if that. When she stepped into the elevator, she gave the operator a half smile. “Morning.” 

“Morning, mademoiselle. Lobby?” He inquired politely as the doors shut. 

“Third floor, please.” Reyes said it before she had time to properly think about it. She would go to Benjamin's suite now, tell him good-bye and that would be that. If she put it off, she might never get the chance, and she couldn't live without doing it. There would be no last tea together, no last walk, just a hurried good-bye and they would separate, going on with their lives and this whole trip would be nothing but a memory she could look back on with bittersweet fondness.

“Of course.” He replied, and then moved the lever to set the car in motion. “Are you all right, mademoiselle?” The young man frowned, and she could feel the genuine concern in his words. He was also hoping that she wasn't going to burst into tears in front of him. Well, she could save him and herself from that sort of embarrassment. 

“I'm fine.” She answered, braving a smile. “I'm not quite awake yet, and I didn't have time to finish my breakfast.” It was a weak excuse; but it was better than the truth.

He nodded in understanding and pulled the lever again, bringing the car to a stop. “Third floor.” 

“Thank you.” She slipped out of the elevator as four people got inside, and she tried to calm her breathing; the way Benjamin had taught her, a mediation tactic he was certain could prove useful in her work with Mrs. Antilles. Right now, she wished she was adept enough at the Force that she could convince her employer to take the afternoon train tomorrow, instead of heading off first thing. That might give her the chance of dinner. She hadn't been to Benjamin's suite, and she bit at her bottom lip, knocking twice, before stepping back. 

“You have the wrong suite!” His voice came towards her, sounding more annoyed than angry. “My breakfast has already been delivered!” There was a rattle of lock and the door swung open, and Reyes had to take a step back as Benjamin stared at her, shocked. His hair, normally well maintained, stuck out at all angles, making his ears look prominent and there was a trace of shaving cream on his chin, and he was still in his nightclothes, the robe over them a bright shade of dark blue. “Reyes?” He blinked, and she could feel him gather his composure. “What's wrong?”

“We're leaving first thing tomorrow. I've come to say good-bye.” She swallowed, ducking her head. She would just get it out and be done with it. Letting it drag out would be terrible. She steeled herself and smiled, even though all she wanted to do was weep. “So this is good-bye, I have things...” 

“No.” His voice was firm and he took her hand, pulling her into the room and shutting the door behind them. “No.” 

“What?” she frowned as he walked away from her, heading deeper into the suite. “What's there to say no to?” This wasn't how it was supposed to be; she just wanted to say good-bye, maybe ask if she could write – she knew the address of Jedha by heart, she'd learned it years ago, before the school closed – and the curtain on this wonderful time could come down.

“Wait here, I'll get dressed in the bathroom.” He gathered up a pile of clothing and went into the washroom. “I won't be two minutes.” He shut the door, leaving it partially cracked.

“I can't stay long, I have a list of things I need to get done this morning. I really should be going.” She swallowed hard, looking absently around the room, letting herself absorb the details of his temporary living space. His dinner jacket from last night was lying over a chair, and his sand-shoes were sticking out from underneath a chair. She took a few steps closer, clasping her hands together. “I will write, I promise.” 

He swung the door back open, his hair still a riot of curls, and he shook his head. “I don't want you to write.” He swept past her and went over to the dresser, where a cup was sitting. He drained the contents and then smiled. “Please, sit down.” He nodded towards the couch. 

Reyes frowned, doing as he asked, confusion starting to set in; she didn't need any confusion right now. She was having enough trouble keeping her own emotions in check. The last thing she needed was to start making light bulbs or teacups burst. “I cannot write you?”

Benjamin smiled and refilled his teacup, completely at ease. His whole reaction was more disturbing than the actual situation she found herself in. She was certain he'd wanted her to write; or at least be somewhat sad. “Mrs. Antilles has had enough of Monte Carlo, and wants to go home. So have I. She to Boston, I to Jedha.” He came over and set his teacup down on the table in front of the couch, then sat on the couch with her. “Which would you prefer?”

She frowned, not understanding what he meant in the slightest, then realized what he might be talking about. She knew three languages besides English; not a common trait for many people, least of all a middle-class young woman, to have. “Are you planning to reopen Jedha? Do you want a foreign language teacher at the school, or something?” 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he answered, his expression serious. “No, little padawan, I'm asking you to marry me.” 

Reyes stood up, aghast, any sense of being demure and quiet gone. Marry him? Was he making fun of her? “If this is your idea of a joke, it isn't funny.”

“I never joke this early in the morning.” He swallowed then reached up, taking her hand, and, rather reluctantly, she sat back down.“I realize this isn't much of a proposal, and, had I more time, I could have done it properly.” He squeezed her fingers. “At least had the decency to send a wire to your uncle in Miami and ask permission, but we are not to be given such a luxury.” 

“I don't understand.” This morning was going from upsetting to absurd. “Why...”

“Do you want to go to Boston, Reyes?” He lifted her chin with one hand, squeezing hers with his other. “Tell the truth; do you honestly want to leave here with Mrs. Antilles?”

“What I want doesn't matter, Benjamin. I have to work.” She wanted to pull her hand free, to run from this bizarre situation. “I don't want to go with Mrs. Antilles, but I have to. She's my employer, and I'm lucky to have such a job.” 

“You do have an option.” He took both of her hands in his now. “Reyes, don't think about what society would have you do, or what you might consider the proper thing to do is, and just think about what you want. What you honestly and truly want.” his eyes met hers. “Will you marry me?” 

She swallowed, turning the words over. Marriage to Benjamin had been so far from a possibility in her mind that she never had entertained the thought or idea of it. “Wanting to marry you and actually doing it are two different things, Benjamin.” She squeezed his hands. “Yes, I want to marry you, but it's not possible.”

“And why the devil is it not possible?” He chuckled. “Neither of us are betrothed to someone else, I know that you do not have a beau waiting for you back in England, anymore than I have a sweetheart that I've left behind.” He pulled one hand away and touched her cheek, lifting her chin. Against her cheek, it was strange – the fingers were rough, but his palm was soft. “I was never good at being clairvoyant, but I know that letting you leave Monte with Mrs. Antilles is something that cannot happen.” 

Reyes looked away, remembering the strange dreams that had not come again since those nights weeks ago. The reasonable part of her was rapidly losing, drowning in a sea that was the unimaginable. “We... we'd go to Jedha, then?”

Ben nodded. “Of course we would. I daresay it needs you.” 

She turned and faced him, smiling. “Do you think....” A small, slight laugh escaped her. “Do you think you could teach me how to drive a car?”

He chuckled at her statement, then leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead, his smile brightening. “So it's settled then? Instead of of being Mrs. Antilles's companion, you will become mine, and your duties will be almost exactly the same. I also enjoy new library books, cards after dinner and someone to pour out my tea. However, I do not smoke and know how to mind my own bloody business.”

The world suddenly slammed back into focus; and Reyes realized what she had said to him. It was a rather strange affirmation to his proposal, but then, his proposal was just as odd. They hadn't brought up subjects one did at such times; love, which always seemed to matter in books and films. Love was a luxury in many marriages; and she had never thought of if she actually loved Benjamin or not. Did he love her? She felt his fingers brush up against her cheek and she looked up to meet his gaze. “You don't have an issue then... with my being half-Spanish?”

“Bother you being half-Spanish.” He laughed, kissing her forehead again. “If that's how you've kept from getting a frightful sunburn, I daresay it should be enviable.” 

She smiled, glancing down, and saw Mrs. Antilles's list sticking out of her pocket. “Oh, oh no...” She stood up, realizing just how long she'd been gone. “I was supposed to be back at the suite ten minutes ago.” 

He chuckled and rose to his feet, embracing her with one arm. “Shall I break the news to Mrs. Antilles that she is traveling alone to Boston, or do you wish to do it?”

Reyes squared her shoulders. “Perhaps it would be best if – if we went together. She'd think I was making things up if only I told her.” Strangely, she suddenly wasn't afraid of what Mrs. Antilles was going to say. 

Ben reached over and squeezed her hand, his expression softening. “Do you mind how soon we get married? It can all be arranged in a few days, a magistrate, license, witnesses.” He took a breath. “I daresay that a formal church wedding will only bring us sorrow for those that cannot be with us.”

She nodded in reply and they walked to the door of suite, which he opened for her and they went into the hallway, pulling the list from her pocket and glancing at it; she needed to go down to the front desk and collect forms for travel; customs, forwarding addresses, and luggage labels. “I should at least bring the paperwork back with me.” 

He chuckled as they came to the elevator. “I should do the same.” He ran his thumb over the back of her hand. “Would you like to go to Milan for a honeymoon? Granted, it's not a popular choice, but I believe that just for that fact, it would be perfect. But I don't want to linger in Italy too long.”

The lift opened, the same one that had brought her down to this floor less than a quarter of an hour ago. Back when Reyes was certain her whole world was falling apart again, and now it was full again; she wasn't going to Boston, she wasn't going to be trapped with Mrs. Antilles, or anyone of Mrs. Antilles's ilk ever again. “I've been missing England something fierce as of late.” She smiled as they went into the lift.

“So have I.” Ben replied and turned to the operator. “Lobby, please.” 

*

Ben could feel Rey's tension return as they rode up in the lift to the floor where Mrs. Antilles was staying. Not that he could entirely blame her. He squeezed her hand, and she gave him a half smile. It was strange how a little thing like her saying she was going to leave finally presented him with the perfect opportunity to find a way to keep the two of them together. He had felt, all the way back to that first day in the dining room, that letting Reyes leave Monte Carlo with anyone other than him would be a grave mistake. He wasn't going to try and go into a whole tangent of the 'Will of the Force' which always sounded stupid when things went well and down right crude when it was the opposite. 

But when the Force all but jumps up on your table and shouts, you'd be a fool to ignore it. 

The lift came to a stop and they stepped out into the hallway, and Ben's nose instantly wrinkled. There was the lingering smell of tobacco smoke, and as they passed a cart laden with dirty dishes, he could see several cigarettes stubbed out in a butter dish. He caught Reyes's thought about her uncouth employer and he was relieved that she was soon to be free of Mrs. Antilles all over again. If this was how the family matriarch acted, Heaven only knew what disgusting manners her children and grandchildren possessed.

Reyes took the key from her pocket and opened the door, and he could feel her steel up her courage. “I'm sorry am late in returning, Mrs. Antilles.” 

“Where the devil have you been? I've rung down to the office every five minutes for the last fifteen minutes, and only now did they say they had seen you!” The woman came out of the bedroom, took one look at the two of them, and her demeanor shifted completely. “Oh, goodness, Mr. Organa, I wasn't expecting you.” She glared at Reyes. “You informed me that he hadn't been around that much.” She brightened. “I'm afraid that you find us about ready to leave.” Her whole face brightened as she was clearly trying to compose herself and be stern at the same time. “So I do apologize, but we have quite a bit to do...”

“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Antilles. I understand that you have packing and much to do before you prepare for your journey home. However, I must first inform you that Miss Andor and I are going to be married.” He squeezed Reyes's hand once before letting go of it and stepping forward. “I do realize that depriving you of your companion must be most disagreeable, and for that I do apologize.” 

Mrs. Antilles grasped the threshold, her eyes round. “Married?” Her gaze went to Reyes. “Have you been doing something you shouldn't, young lady?”

Reyes squared her shoulders, and returned the woman's look. “No, Mrs. Antilles.” She kept the resentment out of her tone, but Ben could feel her anger at such a question curling around in her belly. 

The woman looked back at Ben. “Now, when's the wedding? You're going to need my help, kiddo.” 

“Oh, it's to be a simple affair, I'm afraid.” He stepped forward. “And you have a boat to catch come Sunday. Your own family is waiting for your return.” He laced the last sentence with the Force, just a slight nudge, to prevent any sort of argument or attempt to dissuade Reyes once he left the two of them alone in this suite. 

“True. I haven't seen them in quite a while.” She took a cigarette case out of the pocket of her robe and stuck one into the holder in her hand. “I meant to go home for Christmas, but I ran into an old friend from boarding school, and well...” She stopped short, shutting the case with a loud snap. “Well, then. I suppose we all have our work cut out for us.” 

He gave the woman a smile. “Please, allow me to help you with that, Mrs. Antilles. I will go down to the office and see to your train and passage. I suspect that with the arrival of Spring, most Americans are eager to return home.” 

Rey set down the papers she was holding, and Ben could tell that she was focusing all her efforts on maintaining her composure. After what that woman had asked her, he couldn't blame her in the slightest; more for her sake than his. “Thank you.”

He smiled and kissed her cheek. “I'll see you in a little while.” He turned back to Mrs. Antilles. “If you'll excuse me.” He squeezed Reyes's hand once before he saw himself out of the room. As he shut the door behind him, Ben let out a breath. “Uncle Luke, if you foresaw this happening, I swear, I will shave your head in your sleep and leave you as bald as a newborn babe.” He headed for the lift. 

**

Reyes studied the simple gold band in her fingers, wondering if there was any ill portent in reusing a wedding ring. The simple truth was, she couldn't afford to buy Benjamin a new one, and she wasn't going to suffer the indignity of him paying for everything. She pinched the ring between her index and thumb, swallowing hard. She had told herself, when the wedding bands of her parents had been pressed into her hands after her father's funeral, that her father's ring would be a suitable ring for her husband, whomever he was. She wasn't too certain if Benjamin's hands were any larger than her dad's had been, it'd been a difficult thing to judge. 

She balled her hand into a fist, the ring pressed into her palm. 

It was her wedding day. 

Her green lace stockinette dress was laid over a chair, she'd pressed it herself last night. In keeping with tradition, she and Ben had parted company after dinner and had not met at breakfast as had been their norm for the past few days. She would leave her things packed in the room when she left in a few hours, and they would be moved to Ben's suite before they finished luncheon. Tomorrow, after breakfast, they would leave for Milan. She'd never entertained any thoughts of her wedding when she was a little girl. Fancy weddings were for the upper class – and even now, the idea made her stomach feel a little sour; the people that she and Ben would want at such an event wouldn't be there. Both of them had buried their mothers and fathers, they had no siblings, his uncle was in England, and hers all lived in Florida, on the other side of the Atlantic. 

Taking a breath, she rose and placed the ring in her pocketbook, where it would not get lost. Sighing, she went over to the small table where her breakfast tray sat, her meal mostly finished. She went to the small bathing closet and turned on the tap in the tub, after letting it run for a moment, she put the stopper in the drain and, after checking the lock of her door, picked up her cup of tea and the last piece of toast from her breakfast tray. “Last meal alone, last bath alone.” Her cheeks flushed at the idea of Ben watching her bathe sometime in the near future, or even sharing a tub. She set the saucer down on the table next to the bath and disrobed, stepped into the warm water, and reached over to turn off the tap. 

Reyes leaned back and closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing. She didn't want to cause any accidents with her abilities today, of all days. She hadn't broken anything else, thank the Lord, but she had caused random things to fly off tables, doors to shut; and while it wasn't constant, Ben had told her that using the Force was always tied to emotions. Given the sort of week she had, it wasn't surprising that such things happened. She lifted her hand, channeling her focus towards the small shelf about the spigot, and she bit at her bottom lip, and a fraction of a second later, the sponge she'd been trying to call to her hand slapped against her forehead and splashed into the water. She let out a weak chuckle and opened her eyes. “It's a start.” She straightened up and reached over for her teacup. 

*

Ben set down his razor, then wiped the last of the soap from his face. He had barely slept last night, the nightmares that had plagued him and thought he had escaped when he arrived in Monte Carlo returning, and what short bouts of rest he did find, were fraught with nightmares that left him bolting awake in a cold sweat. He grasped the sink, taking a long, deep breath. He looked up into the mirror, knowing that he had no chance of hiding his exhausted expression from Rey; and he knew he'd never keep the nightmares from her. Ever. She knew a little already; but not the sheer magnitude of it. He also seriously doubted that her father ever told her the depth of his nightmares either. “It is good that war is so terrible, lest we grow to fond of it.” 

He raised his eyes, looking straight into the mirror. “But there will be more war, won't there?” He ran a hand through his hair and washed his hands, then turned and went to the table where his breakfast was half eaten. He picked up the teapot and refilled his cup, knowing better than to head out for his day completely empty. 

He could not remember his childhood in India well, but he could remember many a breakfast spent with his parents; the one and only meal they consistently shared. He'd been barely older than ten when he'd left, and three years after arriving at Jedha, cholera had swept through the province, killing almost everyone; including his parents. He strangely didn't envy the time that Reyes had had with her own parents. He'd known that day when he boarded that boat bound for England that it was unlikely he would ever return, but he hadn't expected that his parents would never return from the government compound outside of Bombay either. Strangely, he thought his mother and father would come back to England, where his father would change patrols for the classroom, teaching at a military academy. His mother would continue her philanthropy. 

Ben sat down at the table and pulled the last piece of toast from the basket. Maybe it was less the nightmares and more of the lack of company that kept his appetite down. When he had dined with Reyes, he's scarcely had time to think of anything negative or dark; somehow, the young woman kept such things at bay. Just by being with her, near her, it was a breath of breeze in the heat of an endless summer, a spark of light after a storm. He took up the spoon from the marmalade jar and smeared the fruit across the top of the slice of bread, rather wishing that it was already tomorrow and the two of them were leaving Monte behind them.

He wasn't going to fool himself into thinking that the two of them were madly in love; the love that one read about in books and saw on the moving pictures. He was extremely fond of her; and he did, he supposed, love her; but not in that artificial way that fictions were rife with; it was something – something he couldn't quite put into words. He bit into the toast, the sweet-tart taste of the orange marmalade caused him to smile. This was his last breakfast alone; and while he didn't doubt that there would be many a morning where he and Reyes would not eat at the same time, this was his last meal as a single man; and elsewhere in the hotel, she was eating her own meal, her last one a single woman. “I sound ridiculous.” He muttered, feeling utterly foolish for being so – sentimental. 

Ben was certain his mother would have adored Reyes.

*

A marriage in front of a magistrate was surprisingly simple and short. Free from the pomp and circumstance, the drive to the courthouse was longer than the actual ceremony. Another couple, who were bound for Venice, served as Reyes and Benjamin's witnesses, and then they remained afterward to be theirs. Hands still clasped, they waved good-bye to the couple as they set off on their honeymoon, and, as the car disappeared around a turn in the road, they headed back to Ben's car, waiting across the road. As he opened the door, he let go of her hand and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “That was rather simple and to the point, wasn't it? A wonder not more people marry in such a way, rather than go through all the bother and expense of a formal wedding.” 

She slipped into the car and held onto her skirt as he shut the door and then came around to the driver's side. Reyes smiled as he got in next to her. “I believe that you put it best, Benjamin, if we went through that, it'd only bring to mind those whom we wish could be there.” 

“So true.” He reached over and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I'm curious, how much of your breakfast were you able to eat? I only managed tea and toast.” He turned his attention to the car. 

“Same. I was certain if I ate more, I'd be sick.” She leaned back in her seat. “It wasn't having second thoughts, or anything like that... just... nerves.” 

“I understand, Reyes.” He smiled. “All to well. “ He didn't look at her, his focus was on the road in front of them. Now that she looked at him in profile, she could see the faint lines at the corners of his eyes, the slightest sign of age; ten whole years her senior, and that wasn't really a problem in her mind; hadn't Mrs. Antilles been harping about a nearly fifty year old man marrying a girl of eighteen or nineteen? She didn't find herself looking for signs of gray in his hair, she knew that would appear before too long; and she would most likely tease him about it when the time came. “Oh, I know you will.” He shot a look at her. “You're thinking too loudly again. Remember what I told you about that.” 

She flushed, grasping her pocketbook. “You never know who might be listening in.” She chuckled. “Although it seems rather rude.” 

“It makes for some interesting social gatherings.” He answered, and eased the car around an almost hairpin turn. “Lord, these roads are dangerous. We're fortunate that this is a low hill, not one of those wretched mountains.” He took a breath. “Fortunately, the roads we'll find on the way to Italy are nothing like this. If there's one thing that the people of Italy know how to do other than cook, it's make roads.” He grinned. “Well, I should say that they are good at resurfacing the roads of their ancestors.” 

Reyes smiled as the traffic increased slightly as they drove closer to the hotel. “The empire of Rome is long gone, yet their roads still remain. Even in countries other than their own.” She grimaced as her stomach growled. “Pardon me.” 

“You're only hungry. As am I.” He pulled up to the valet queue outside the hotel and almost instantly a uniformed attendant appeared, opening up Reyes's door first. 

“Thank you.” She waited next to the car as Ben came over to her side, setting a hand on the small of her back. The touch was strangely intimate; it reminded her of their swim a few weeks ago. His hand remained in place as they crossed the drive and mounted the stairs to the hotel. The clock in the lobby stated that it was half past twelve; the dining room would be practically empty. Reyes was less worried about gossip and more about the shortened time to wait for their food. 

“I haven't told you, but I do love your approach to food.” Ben gave her a sideways smile. “When so many girls your age pick at their food and feign fullness, you embrace what you are served with gusto.” 

“I believe such girls have never known the agony of going to bed with anything but a full stomach. A luxury not everyone is afforded.” They went into the dining room and went over to Ben's usual table. “Although how anyone managed such a feat during the War, I cannot imagine.” She slid into her seat as he held it for her, then set her pocketbook down on the table as he took his chair as well.

Ben smiled at her as the waiter came over to them, handing each of them a menu. “Indeed.” 

The waiter cleared his throat. “May bring you something to drink this afternoon?”

“Champagne.” He replied, smiling. “For both of us.” 

“Oui, monsieur.” He inclined his head and disappeared.

“Do you want something cold or hot today?” His eyes were on the menu, not her.

Reyes felt her cheeks turn pink again, then looked down at the options. “That's the trouble when you don't eat much breakfast, suddenly everything, even dishes you wouldn't normally care for, sound delicious.” She shifted in her chair, glancing at the set lunch. “I've not had the mussels, how are they?” 

“The mussels here are excellent. So is the barley soup. Nearly as good as chamomile for settling one's soul.” He smiled as the waiter returned and poured their champagne. “I could do with a full, proper lunch for a change.” He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, and the rest of his sentence was spoken in her mind. _I don't know when we shall have dinner._

Clearly understanding his meaning, she ducked her head, her mind swimming as she glanced at the selections under the luncheon heading again. _If you're trying to embarrass me, you're doing a splendid job of it._ She straightened up, glancing up to see the waiter set the bottle down. 

“Are you ready to order?” The man hadn't noticed her discomfort and she saw Ben's eyebrow raise. She was going to get him for that. Somehow.

_I'm looking forward to seeing what you have planned._ He straightened up. “I believe we are, Reyes?”

“Yes.” Her voice came out a little weaker than she intended. “Yes, I'm ready.” She looked up at the waiter. “I'll have the set lunch, with mussels, barley soup, salmon, the veal, and the cake and ice cream for dessert.” She reached over and took up her water glass, taking a sip of it, not trusting herself with the champagne yet.

“Excellent choice, made...” he stopped, and Reyes knew he had caught sight of the two rings on her hand. “Madame.” He smiled and turned to Benjamin. “And for you, monsieur?” 

“I will have exactly the same, however, instead of veal, I would like the lamb for my entree.” He handed the menu back to the waiter and then she did the same. 

“Your hors d'œuvres will be out shortly.” He smiled and walked away from the table. 

Ben picked up his champagne glass, holding it up slightly, and nodded at her, and she quickly picked her own up. “To each new dawn, for we shall never face another one alone.” 

Reyes wasn't certain how to reply to such an odd toast, so she smiled and took a sip of the sweet wine. Over the rim, her eyes met his – and she felt her face flush again.


	4. Chapter 4

The nervous feeling that had gone away during luncheon was back. Reyes knew that Benjamin had to sense it from her; and she knew that he couldn't blame her. The lift seemed to move with the speed of lightning, and she tried not to think about the hand at the small of her back, about how the same hand would feel against her bare skin; how... she felt her cheeks flush as the doors opened and he led her out into the corridor. Much like the lift, the journey down the hall to his room seemed to shorten in length. He pulled his hand from her as he unlocked the door, pushing it open ahead of her. “Thank you.” 

Ben gave her a small, half smile as he entered the room after her, locking the door behind them and set the key down on the table next to it. “Did you sleep as poorly as I did last night?”

She placed her pocketbook down on the table, then pulled the long pin from her hat, setting both it and the hat down as well. “I slept... as well as I always do.” She paused. “Do you often have restless sleep?”

He didn't answer her, not directly. “You'll find that I often have nights when I do not find true rest.” He sighed, grasping the back of a chair. “One would think that, so many years later, the nightmares that haunted my slumber from the War would be gone.” 

Taking a breath, she crossed the room and slid her arms around his waist, setting her head between his shoulder-blades, rubbing her cheek against the fabric of his suit-jacket. “Then from now on, when your dreams wake you in the middle of the night, I want you to wake me as well.” She closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of him; a smell she couldn't quite place, something rather clean, mint and lavender? “Agreed?” 

He let out a long breath. “I wouldn't want you to be sleep deprived, Reyes.” He turned and as he did, she opened her eyes as his hand raised her chin, a small, rather mischievous smile lingered at the corners of his mouth. “but who knows, you may make the ill sleep vanish just by being there.” He kissed her forehead softly and drew away, pulling off his jacket, laying it across a chair-back, then he removed his tie, watch and cufflinks, dropping all of them on the table. “So how well do you normally sleep? What's your average number of hours?” 

She went over to the couch and sat, undoing the buckles of her shoes. “I never really keep track. Six or seven.” She looked up at him as she pulled off one shoe. “That was when I was working for Mrs. Antilles. When I worked for Mrs Kenyon, I would go to bed about an hour after her, so I was averaging about nine hours on a good night.” She removed the other, pushing them away with her foot, itching to be free of her stockings as well. 

“Good lord, that must have been wonderful. I can't remember the last time I managed such slumber.” He came over and sat down next to her, their knees almost touching. “Then again, I suspect that comparing your two employers would be similar to comparing night and day.” 

Reyes smiled in response. “Something like that, yes.” She reached over and smoothed down a small wrinkle on his sleeve; a small gesture, and she realized as her hand fell back into her lap, a completely intimate one. She ducked her head. “I'm sorry.” 

“Why?” Ben's hand came to her chin, lifting it and turning it towards him. “There's nothing to be sorry for.” He pressed his lips against hers, a soft, brushing kiss, much like the one they had shared at the courthouse. The hand on her chin slid to the back of her head, his fingers spreading out to hold it as the pressure of his touch changed, and she felt the tip of his tongue touch her upper lip. Surprised, her mouth parted under his, and then the kiss wasn't so gentle. Uncertain of what to do, she moved her tongue against his, the lingering taste of their luncheon dessert of cake and ice cream still there. He pulled his mouth from hers, and he smiled. “There's no need to rush this, Rey,” he kissed the side of her mouth, “we have nowhere to be until tomorrow morning.” 

She worried her bottom lip, reaching over to brush an errant lock of Ben's hair from his forehead. “I'm not certain what I should do.” Of course she didn't know what to do, she'd never been intimate with anyone, and while her mother had told her where babies came from, it wasn't as if sex was a subject that was even discussed beyond that, at least, she understood that fine, well-behaved young ladies didn't talk about it; or even read about it, should they know what books to look for. 

He shook his head in reply, leaning over to kiss the other side of her mouth. “Just do what feels natural, Reyes.” He moved a little closer, his knee touching hers as he kissed the small spot where her jaw met her ear. “And tell me if I'm going to fast.” He moved his free hand down against her her left knee, pulling her leg so it was over one of his. “This all right?”

Reyes nodded as his hand settled on her knee, over the skirt of her dress. “Yes.” She brought her own hands up to his shoulders, and tentatively put her lips against his, a brief touch. “I think I like the kissing.” 

“Kissing is good.” He murmured, and then moved his lips from hers, down her chin and onto her neck. The hand in her hair tugged slightly, exposing the column of her throat to him. She shivered as she felt his mouth open, licking and nibbling at her skin. The hand on her knee slid under the skirt of her dress, and she inhaled sharply at the feel of his fingers against her thigh. “All right?” 

She nodded, swallowing. “It's fine.” She slid one hand down his front, stopping at his waistcoat. “You?”

Ben smiled and kissed her again, and under her skirt, she could feel him working his fingers under the band of her stocking. “More than fine.” He tugged on her stocking, and she straightened her leg so he could slip it past her knee and down to her ankle, and then maneuvered it off of her foot, dropping it next to her shoes. “Better?” He put his hand back on her knee. 

She started to undo the buttons on his waistcoat, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “I do have two of them.” 

“Do you?” His hand went over to her other leg, sliding up under her skirt, stopping on the small expanse of bare skin between the top of her stocking and slip. “So you do.” He nuzzled her neck and started to work that one off as well. The hand that had been in her hair slid down her back, then around her waist to join his other hand in removing her remaining stocking. “Better?” He dropped it next to the first.

She smiled as she undid the last button of his waistcoat. “Much.” She reached up to pull the garment off of him, and he pulled his arms back so he could help her. He tossed the vest onto the far arm of the couch. “Maybe you would like to take off your shoes and socks as well?”

Ben chuckled in response, then leaned over to untie his shoes. “It's not as if we haven't seen each others' feet bare before.” 

“True.” She reached up and started to pull the pins from her hair, releasing it from the half up-do she had put in this morning, and he'd partially already taken apart. “Although I'm positive that some might consider our swim a few weeks ago to be wholly improper.” 

He scoffed. “There's a man my uncle's age down the corridor with his mistress who is yours, if you want to talk improper behavior.” He pushed his shoes and socks over with his foot. “Quite scandalous, if you ask me.” 

She carefully put the pins onto the table in front of the couch, and as she straightened up, she felt Ben's hand back on her knee, the tips of his fingers brushing the skin just below the hem of her dress. “Is that what you do when you can't sleep? Poke around with the Force to see what everyone else is up to?” It came out in a tone she couldn't quite explain; half- reprimand, half-curious.

He chuckled and leaned over, kissing her again. “Not always. I also don't linger in any one room that long. Really, it's no different than listening into conversations on a train.” He tugged her leg back over his, her heel against his shin. “I like this here.” 

“Do you?” She slid her hands up to his shoulders, kissing his chin. “What a coincidence, I like it being there too.” 

“Hm.” He set his other hand back into her hair, then pressed his lips against hers, quickly turning the kiss from chaste to passionate. She felt her heart turn over as his tongue swept into her mouth, sliding against hers. She held onto him as his arm was suddenly wrapped around her waist and pulled her into his lap. He broke the kiss, breathing hard. “And I think this is even better.” 

Reyes was certain he could hear her heart, given how loud it seemed to be pounding. She kept his eyes on hers as his hand slid up underneath the skirt of her dress, resting on her thigh. The wool fabric of his trousers were rough against her skin, and she let out a hiss as his fingers reached her hip, and she nearly squirmed away. “Ben...”

“No, no...” His hand retreated lower. “I'm sorry.” He brushed his lips against her cheek. “Little too swift for you?” 

“Unexpected.” She willed herself to calm down, and started to undo the buttons of his shirt, resting her forehead against his. “You?”

“I'm fine.” He shifted so he could press his lips to her ear. “You're _here_.” One of his hands settled in her hair, holding her still while the other went to the back of her neck. “Do you know how many nights since I met you I've thought of you _here_?” He undid the button at the back of her frock and started to tug the zipper down. “On this couch, in the bed, in the bath, _everywhere_.” His voice was raspy. “I lurked about in other rooms for one reason, Rey – I did it to distract me from the one room I wanted to see.” 

Reyes tugged his shirt free, her resolve to remain calm rapidly diminishing. A strange, new feeling was rising in her; something she'd only gleaned from a handful of novels. She closed her eyes, breathing against his ear. “Tell me.” She kissed the small freckle that was right next to the lobe. “Show me.” 

“Oh, darling...” she could feel his hands slide up her back and onto her shoulders, and she lowered her arms so he could slip the sleeves of her dress off. One of his hands remained on her waist, and the other tugged on her hair, pulling her head to the side, exposing her neck. Her ran his tongue up from her shoulder to her ear. “My dreams of you are nowhere near what reality is.” He chuckled. “Although I have imagined every frock I've seen you in lying on the floor, a pile of under-linen next to it.” the hand in her hair relaxed it's grip. “Sometimes, there's a trail of our clothing, going to the bed.” 

She shivered at the idea, and slowly pulled away from him, smiling as she stood up so her dress could fall to the floor, and he tugged off his shirt, and she took it from him, laying in on her discarded frock. “Did you want to move to the bed?” 

“No.” He pulled off his undershirt, tossing it to join his shoes and socks. “I like it here.” He leaned back on the couch and she smiled, returning to her former place in his lap, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as she kissed him gently. She felt his hands move between them and then he let out a relieved groan. “Much better.” He took her wrist in his hand, guiding it down his side and onto his side, where she could feel he'd undone the fastening of his trousers. He shifted on the couch, so she was lying against the arm. “Comfortable?”

She nodded, moving her feet from the floor, her eyes darting down to Ben's chest; it was covered in a scattering of scars; some looking worse than others. Swallowing, she set her hand against his skin, running her hand down towards his ribs. “I'm so sorry.” 

“Don't be.” He kissed her again, rising up on his knees over her. “These scars no longer pain me.” He held himself up by one arm, the hand of the other trailing down her side, going over her hip, and she let out a hiss as he slid it between her legs. “Oh, I think you like that, don't you?”

Reyes let out a gulp by way of affirmation, and she felt Ben's fingers undo the two buttons that held the one-piece slip closed, and he pulled the front of the garment up, and she had to fight the urge to push it back down. “Ben...” 

“Am I moving to fast?” His hand retreated to her thigh. “Be honest.” His eyes met hers, and the worried expression on his face nearly made her want to cry. 

“I... I'm fine.” She shifted on the couch, swallowing. “I'm uncertain what you want me to do.” 

He smiled and touched her lips with his. “Just tell me if I move to fast, or if I'm hurting you in any way.” His moved his hand so his wrist was resting on her pelvic bone. “Have you never touched yourself like this?”

She shook her head. “No.” She bit her lip. “Well, not there...” 

“Not here?” He ran his fingers down, and she nearly bolted upright when she felt his middle finger graze her clit. “Oh, you like that, don't you?” 

She nodded and then let out a gasp as he turned his hand, his middle finger flicking the sensitive nub. “Ben.” She whimpered as he slid the finger along her folds, causing her to jerk her leg back in response, and at the same time, opening them wider to give him better access. She almost bolted from the couch as his finger slid inside of her, and she grabbed his arm. “What?”

“Sssh.” He stroked his fingers slowly, causing her to shiver. “It's all right.” He smiled down at her, shifting so he was on his knees, his other hand started to undo the lacing on the front of her slip. “You're soaking.” He slipped his finger back into her, “but you're not ready...not yet” He leaned down, kissing her again, his mouth working hers open, his tongue moving in and out of her in tandem to his finger. She slid her hands into his hair, holding on to him in an attempt to keep herself grounded; something to help her remain somewhat sane against the emotions that were running riot through her. He let out a low growl as he broke the kiss, breathing hard against her ear. “I want to see you, Reyes.” He traced the shell of her ear with his tongue. “ I want to see my pretty bride and companion as I've dreamed of seeing her.” He pulled away, sitting back on the couch.

Reyes rose to her feet, hers eyes on his as she slid the straps of her slip off of her shoulders, the garment falling in puddle around her ankles. She took a step closer, kicking the garment towards her dress. She couldn't meet Ben's eyes; whether it was embarrassment over her state, or with how she looked, she couldn't say. She bit her lip as she kept her focus on the patterned rug the couch was standing on.

“Darling.” He set his hands on her hips, pulling her closer, so her leg brushed against his. “So beautiful.” He leaned forward, pressing his lips against her bellybutton. “My dreams did not do you justice.” Ben's hand slid up her leg and onto her rear. “Don't look away, Reyes, you needn't be afraid.” 

Swallowing, she turned her eyes back towards his, feeling her blush deepen. “I'm not afraid.” 

Ben smiled up at her, then moved aside. “Sit.” He patted the cushion next to him and she complied, and as she sat, he moved off the couch, kneeling between her legs. “This is better, don't you think?” 

“It's less awkward, if that's what you mean.” She replied, feeling a little more at ease now that she wasn't standing up. “Although I don't...” Her next words were cut off as his hands took a hold of her hips, pulling her forward just as his mouth closed around her right nipple, his tongue flicking over the point fast. “What?” She squirmed as his hands slid down to her thighs, pushing her legs even wider. She closed her eyes and slid a hand into his hair as he began to lave at her flesh, stroking her nipple with his tongue. “Benjamin...” She groaned.

There was an almost obscene, wet pop as he released the stiff peak. “Oh, I love that...” She felt his mouth move to her other breast. “Hearing you say my name in that tone.” He gave her left nipple the same treatment as the right. 

She tightened her grip on his hair, feeling her hips slide forward towards him as her shoulders were pressed into back of the couch. A whimper escaped her as he pulled his lips closed and started kissing down her breast and onto her belly. She took several breaths to steady herself before opening her eyes, and smoothed down his hair as he nuzzled her thigh. 

He smiled and kissed her thigh, slipping forward. “Patience.” He slid one hand up onto her breast, pulling at her nipple and then she nearly bolted upright as she felt his hot breath against her sex. “Darling.” His tongue slid between her slit and she grasped the throw pillow next to her in an effort to keep from bolting. “Taste so sweet.” He licked her again. “I love sweets.” He wrapped his other arm around her waist and buried his mouth against her, his tongue delving into her quim.

She choked on her scream, breathing hard as he explored her with his mouth, alternating between sucking at her clit and stroking her with his tongue. The hand on her breast tightened and Reyes whined as he pulled away, replacing his mouth with his fingers. “You're teasing me, aren't you?” She felt drugged; and when he pulled his hand away, she fought the urge to pull it back. 

Ben stood up, looming over her as he pushed his trousers and underclothes off of his hips, the garments falling to his feet. Her eyes darted down from his face to his hips, looking back up again quickly, unnerved by what she had seen. “Now, don't be like that.” His hand settled on her cheek and he knelt on the couch, shifting her body so she was lying under him. “What is it? What's wrong?”

She lifted her chin, shivering as she felt him rub the head of his cock against her entrance. “Uh... how are you supposed to fit?” It didn't make sense in her mind; she knew how this was supposed to work; but somehow, in this moment, it didn't seem like it would. 

He chuckled, kissing her neck. “I'll fit, you'll see.” Ben's hands came down onto her hips, and he shifted his hips, letting his cock slip inside of her. “Just breathe, Rey.” He brushed her hair from her face. “Relax.” He retreated slightly, then returned, going deeper. 

She bit at her bottom lip as he pulled away, before pushing his cock back into her quim, her body slowly giving way to his. “Ben..” She turned her head to the side as he drove in deeper, and she hissed in pain. “It hurts.” 

Ben stilled, partially inside of her. “I'm sorry.” He kissed her forehead, lifting her legs so they were wrapped around his waist. He touched her cheek, pulling his cock from her and then eased it back in to the same depth. “Is this okay?” He repeated the motion again, and she nodded, groaning. “Oh, yes, that's it.” He slipped his arms under her, holding her steady as he pushed his cock deeper into her, and then retreated, letting her body adjust to him each time. “Darling companion.” He nuzzled her neck.

Reyes slid her arms around his back, holding onto him as he pulled her up so her head was lying on the arm of the couch, her ankles crossed and her heel was pressed against his rear. She relaxed as he withdrew his cock from her and then, in one swift thrust, he buried himself completely within her quim. She couldn't scream; there was no breath for her to scream. It didn't hurt, not exactly. She shuddered around him, feeling her body slowly adjusting to his girth. “Ben...” She breathed against his ear, her voice full of more pain than she actually felt. 

“I'm sorry.” He rose up over her, his hands on either side of her head. He closed his eyes, shuddering. “Force, you feel amazing.” He pulled his hips back slightly and then snapped them back, the pain becoming a pleasant ache. “That's it, Reyes...” 

“Still stings.” She whimpered as he filled her again, moving his hips slowly against hers. “Good... but...” She grasped his hair. “It still...” She pressed her face against his neck, closing her eyes and just let herself _feel_. The sensation of his cock moving in and out of her quim, the wet, slick sound coming from where they were joined, and she trembled as he filled her. His breath was hot against her ear, his hips starting to move faster, her body yielding to his thrusts, and she panted against his shoulder, resisting the urge to bite into it. 

“My sweet bride.” Ben's voice almost sounded broken as he kept thrusting into her. “My darling companion.” He started to move faster, his hips snapping against hers. 

She tightened her grip on him, pressing her mouth against his shoulder, certain that she was going to break the skin as the feelings building inside of her pitched her over, and everything seemed to go white. She was still aware of her husband's hips moving against hers, his cock throbbing inside of her quim, and he moaned out her name, his body stilling above hers. 

*

Ben slowly pulled his cock from Reyes, trying not to look at the smear of blood on her thighs as he did. There wasn't much, but it was still obvious. He gently untangled her legs from his hips and she blinked, looking rather dazed as he helped her sit up. “Not hurt, are you?”

“Little sore.” She rubbed her eyes then looked down at the two of them, and her cheeks went pink; he could feel her embarrassment. “Did I faint?”

“No, I think you were just a little...overwhelmed.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and brushed her hair from her face. “Would you like to take a bath?” 

“Together?” She covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes going wide. “I didn't mean to say that.” 

He gave her a look, his eyebrows raised. “I wasn't going to suggest it, but if you'd like to...” 

She lowered her hand, worrying her lip, but her look became a little more confident. “Is your tub big enough?”

Ben chuckled, leaning over and kissing her, letting his lips linger on hers. “It is. We can't go for a swim, but then, I don't think we want to.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Can you walk?”

“Can I walk?” Reyes rose to her feet, slightly shaky. “I'm not drunk.” She frowned. “I actually have never been drunk.” 

“You're not missing anything.” He stood as well, setting a hand on the small of her back. “The bathroom is over here.” He indicated the door across from the bedroom. “You sure you can walk?” 

She took a few steps, looking back over her shoulder at him. “I'm good. I'll get the water running.” She took another step, and then had to hold her arms out to catch herself on a chair-back. “I'm fine.” 

“Of course you are.” He crossed the room in a few short strides and picked her up, carrying her into the bath. “But I don't think we want to end this day with you falling on your face and breaking your nose. It would make our honeymoon most unpleasant.” He stepped into the room and set her down on the small stool next to the tub. “I'll be back in a moment.” He slid his fingers from her hair and turned, stopping at the door to check on her as she put the plug in the drain and turned on the water. He smiled to himself as he went the main room, heading for the bedroom, gathering up his robe from where he'd left it this morning, and he rested his fingers against Reyes's small, unopened trunk. Rather than open it and try to locate her robe, he went back to bath, remembering that there were thick towels waiting in a neat stack that were untouched.

Rey was already in the tub, leaning against her knees as the water continued to pour in. “I couldn't wait. It was too tempting.” 

“I wasn't going to say anything.” He laid his robe across the stool and stepped into the hot water behind her, pulling her back against him. “Oh, this is nice.” He lifted his hand, and slowly flicked his fingers towards the knobs, turning them off with the Force. “There we are.”

“I want to know how to do that.” Rey stated, sitting up. “is it hard?”

“I've been doing it for so long, I can't really remember if it was hard to learn or not.” He combed her hair with his fingers. “You first have to know if you need to push or pull.” He sighed softly, letting his fingers slip down her back. “It's also important to start with something simple.” 

She turned slightly, looking back at him. “I've been working on my breathing, if that's what you wanted to ask. I do it every night when I'm trying to fall asleep.” She lowered her eyes, looking sheepish. “It's not something that would have been proper to discuss – until recently.” 

Ben chuckled and smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I suppose not.” He leaned forward and kissed her, tugging on her bottom lip with both of his. He pulled back and sat up straight against the back of the tub. “Come here. Your back to my front.” 

She nodded and slowly slid towards him, and he reached out under the water, guiding her hips back until they were between his thighs, her feet resting on his shins. “What is it?” She looked over her shoulder at him.

“Here.” He nudged her chin back around to face the front of the tub, and slid his arms around her waist. “Do you see that sponge on the rack, just above the spigot?” 

“Yes.” She answered, and shifted slightly, and he did his best not to think about how his half-hard cock was almost perfectly slotted between the cleft of her rear. 

“Call it too you.” He whispered against her ear. “Concentrate, and use the Force to bring it to your hand. It's not heavy, your hat weighs more.” 

She giggled and then ducked her head. “Do I only get so many attempts?” 

“Try once.” He breathed, and he felt her shiver. “Close your eyes if you have to. Closing your eyes often helps.” 

She nodded and he heard her take a deep breath. “Are you going to try and distract me?” 

He traced his tongue along the shell of her ear, his hands coming up to cup her breasts. “I make no promises, sweeting.” He pulled on her earlobe with his teeth. “Relax, and concentrate.” he murmured, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Use your breathing.” 

She inhaled slowly and he closed his eyes slightly, feeling the Force slowly ebb around the two of them, no stronger than the currents in the tub. Her right arm slowly came up out of the water, her hand open, and he saw the sponge move slightly, a little closer to the edge of the shelf. Her shoulders lifted slightly as she exhaled and, a fraction of a second later, the sponge shot towards them, missing her hand and smacked Ben in the face before landing in the water and splashing her as well. “Are you okay?”

Ben withdrew his hands, spluttering for a moment, and then laughed. Reyes had done it – not entirely as instructed, but she'd still _moved_ the sponge. She turned around, looking contrite, and then saw his face; and grinned. “I'm fine. Extremely thankful that it was the sponge and not the bar of soap. That would have hurt.” He chuckled.

She turned looked back at the shelf, and he could see the still thankfully stationary bar where he'd left it this morning. “I'm not going to try for that. Not just yet.” She ducked her head. “I did the same thing to myself this morning.”

“And again, I am glad it wasn't the soap.” He reached over and grabbed the sponge, pulling it under the water to soak it and then drew it back up. “And you're still learning.” He kissed her neck, ringing the sponge over her collar bone, and she tilted her head back over his shoulder. “Oh, do you like that?”

“It feels nice.” Reyes answered, letting out a long breath. “It's been a – long afternoon.” 

“That it has.” He slipped the hand holding the sponge underwater and began to run it against her thighs. “Quite possibly the best afternoon of my life.” the faint traces of blood left on her legs wiped away with just a single swipe, but his fingers lingered behind. “How are you feeling?” 

“Better.” She stretched her arms out, and he heard a joint in her shoulder pop. “In that I don't feel sore anymore.” She clasped one wrist in her other hand and then pulled her arms back so they were over both of their heads. “This is not as comfortable as I thought it would be.” 

He chuckled. “You don't have to keep your arms there.” He raised his hands and helped her pull her arms back down, letting them settle under the water. “or were you attempting something and it didn't work out right?” 

She turned over, resting on her knees, her hands coming up to his shoulders. “Would you believe me if I said I didn't know what I was doing?” She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his. “Or does that sound silly?” 

Ben slid one hand to hold her head, his fingers tracing her ear. “No, no it doesn't sound silly at all, Reyes.” He brushed his lips against hers. “But do you know what you want?” His other hand came down down and cupped her rear. “Can you tell me that?” 

Rey moved her hands into his hair, and she closed her eyes, and it took all of his resolve not to just snatch the thought from her mind. “I... I want to go back to the couch.” 

He chuckled in response, wrapping his arm around her waist so he could straighten up. “We can go back there, if you like.” 

She nodded, and then he released her from his arms so she could climb out of the tub, and she grabbed a towel from the rail, wrapping it around her. “You be careful.” 

He shook his head as he pulled the plug free and got out as well, taking the towel she offered him. “Thank you.” He put it around his waist, and decided he wouldn't bother with his robe. He stepped over to her, setting his hands on her shoulders and lifting her chin, pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “Couch then?”

She ducked her head. “Could you give me a few minutes? Please?” 

He smiled and kissed her forehead. “Of course, sweetheart.” He slid his hands from her and walked out of the bath, taking his robe with him. “You want me to shut the door?”

“Thank you.” she replied, and he did as asked, letting it click shut. 

“And I'm certain neither your parents or mine planned on such a wedding day for us.” He shook his head and went to retrieved their scattered clothing, carrying all of it into the bedroom and placing them on their respective trunks. He shook out Reyes's dress, noting that it had been cut for a woman shorter than her, much like all of his bride's frocks. He laid it gently down on her trunk. “Were they all still here, most likely we would have just left the church.” 

Ben frowned at his reflection in the wardrobe mirror, and, out of habit, he went and shut the door, an old childhood fear that he swore he'd outgrow, but never quite had. He supposed that when it came to strange quirks, not wanting to sleep in a room with the wardrobe door open wasn't that odd. He then went and turned down the covers on the bed, leaving them folded near the foot of the bed, but left the small mountain of throw pillows at the head. They might be convenient later. 

He ran a hand through his hair as he went over to the couch to see if there was any stain on the fabric there. He glanced back towards the shut door and then took care of their shoes in the same fashion he had their clothes. When he returned to the main room, he heard the bath door open and he turned. “All finished?” 

She nodded and came over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “You didn't have to straighten things up on your own. I could have helped.” 

“Well, it's not as if we left our clothes scattered across the room.” He rubbed her back, and paused before sliding his fingers under the towel, tugging it from her. “I don't know if we'll always manage to be so neat.” He slipped around so he was standing behind her, letting his own towel join hers on the floor. “What do you think?” He slid his hands up her front, cupping her breasts, thumbing her nipples.

Reyes let out a breathy laugh, her head tilting back against his shoulder. “I suppose we could take turns taking care of our discarded clothing.” Her hands rested on his wrists. “Although I don't think that when that day comes, we're going to really care.” 

“Truth.” He nuzzled her neck, pressing his cock against her rear. 

*

Reyes slowly came awake, confused from her slumber, trying to pinpoint what exactly had woken her. She raised herself up on her arms, peering towards the clock on the bedside table, it was half past one. She hadn't noticed the time when she and Ben had fallen into the bed, or rather, when he had carried her there from the couch. She turned towards her husband, who hadn't woken when she had. Her eyes widened at the sight of pain on his face, his head tossing from side to side, and, under the covers, his leg twitched, kicking her in the shin. The dull ache that went through her gave her an idea of what had woken her.

Swallowing, she sat up, setting one hand on his face, holding him steady while the other went to his shoulder. “Ben.” She shook him slightly. “Ben, wake up, you're having a nightmare.” 

His whole body thrashed in response, and the chair across the room fell over. 

“Oh, blast...” She shook him harder. “Wake up, please... please...” A throw pillow at the foot of the bed flew towards her and she caught it before it could hit either of them. She looked it for a moment and rose to knock the next pillow that came up from where it had fallen. “Ben you need to wake up!” She dropped the throw, seized the pillow under her husband's head and yanked it free. 

It had the desired affect as Ben's whole body jolted and he sat up, breathing hard. “What in...” He turned and looked at her, blinking. “Damn.” He covered his face with his hands as she replaced the pillow. “I'm sorry.” 

Rey gently pulled his hands down, replacing them with her own. “It's all right.” She kissed him softly. “You're safe now.” 

He wrapped his arms around her waist as they settled back down on the bed, his head resting on her chest, and she stroked his hair. “What time is it?”

“After one.” She closed her eyes, letting herself relax. “Do you want to try and go back to sleep?”

He let out a long breath, and rubbed his cheek against her. “Not just yet.” His arms slid around her waist, and one of his hands came down to rest on her hip. “I want to lie here for a little while.” 

She smiled and opened her eyes, looking down at him, smoothing down his hair. “Comfortable?” 

“I am.” He let out an absent hum, and nuzzled her again. “I can hear your heart. So calm and steady.” He sighed. “Quite possibly one of the most wonderful sounds I have ever heard.” 

“It beats for you, my love.” The words slipped from her without thinking; but as soon as she had spoken, she knew the truth of her statement. If you had asked her on the day she came to Monte Carlo if she ever thought of falling in love, getting married, any of it – she'd have laughed. But things had changed so in the past weeks, that now, now she couldn't imagine _not_ feeling the way she did right now. 

Ben shifted so they were face to face, and he pressed his lips to hers for a moment, the barest touch of a kiss. “And mine for you, Reyes.” He pulled her close, their heads touching on the pillow, and in her mind, she became aware of a sound. A steady, even, deep thumping, and then, a second beat joined the first. The rhythm was identical, a perfect harmony that blocked out nearly all other noises, and then the rising, swooping feeling she always associated with the Force seemed to envelop them completely, a great pair of hands cradling them in the bed as they cradled each other. “That's us, darling. You and me.” His voice was more in her mind than her ear. “Always and forever.”


	5. Chapter 5

Rain lashed against the windows, a steady storm that had started yesterday around luncheon and had not quit in the night. Reyes rested her head against the glass; the view was of slate rooftops, and she pulled the thick comforter more tightly around her, wondering how Milan could still seem to be in the throes of winter when Monte Carlo had been a riot of spring shifting to summer. She and Ben had been in Italy for two weeks, and the weather had been wonderful until yesterday. The inclement day had kept the pair of them inside, and they had dinner brought to their room last night, as the two of them had not felt inclined to get dressed just go to down to eat for a handful of hours.

“Good morning.” Ben came over, kissing the top of her head and then looked out the window with her. “Are you cold?” He rubbed her back slowly. 

“Not particularly.” She gave him a look. “But I suppose compared to some places in this room, being next to the window seems cold.” 

He cleared his throat, a slight blush to his cheeks. “A valid point.” He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her from the window so he could rest his chin on her head. “ _Carmen_ is opening tonight, would you possibly be interested in attending?” 

She closed her eyes, letting out a sigh. “It wouldn't do to come to the city in Italy renowned for opera and not attend one. I would love to.” She grimaced as her stomach gurgled. “But breakfast before anything else. ”

“Breakfast sounds good.” He kissed her again, then pulled away. “I'll get dressed first, I won't be long.” 

She turned to watch him gather his clothing from the wardrobe as she walked over to the bed, pulling off the comforter and tossing it haphazardly over the foot. She smiled to herself as she went over and laid out her own clothing for the day, before walking around to retrieve the few pieces that were lying about the room. Ben had not had any nightmares since they had left Monte, and she was glad of it. Reyes was certain she wasn't imagining the fact that the haunted, gaunt look was gone from Ben's face. He looked markedly better than when she'd first seen him; and while some of the change had been gradual, how he looked today and how he had looked a week and a half a go were as different as night and day. 

The bathroom door opened and Ben came out, his tie still loose around his neck. “So I'm not completely dressed, but I know I can get this fixed before you're done dressing.” 

She snickered as she headed towards the bath. “I'm surprised you can't do that in your sleep.” She stepped into the small room and shut the door, quickly laying the clothes out before turning the water on in the basin. She couldn't say if anything had really changed in her own reflection; while she certainly felt different, she didn't really see any physical difference between the girl who had gone to Monte Carlo and the young woman now looking back in the mirror. She wrung out the washcloth and then pulled her hair back into the usual bun, smiling at herself as she took off her pajamas and stepped into her slip.

“Reyes?” Ben's voice came from the other side of the door. “Did you mean to bring your stockings in there?”

She looking at her stack of clothing and realized that she had forgotten them. “Yes, I did, but I can put them on just as easy out there.” She got into her blouse and skirt. “If you'll notice, I also left my jacket out there as well.” She picked up her shoes and went to the door. “Although forgetting the stockings when I remembered my shoes is a little silly.” She stepped out into the room, and he handed her the forgotten articles, still folded together. “better to forget these than say, my underclothes.” 

“True.” He chuckled as she went over to a chair to put them on. “Although what we wear in this day and age would be considered wholly unacceptable by our grandparents.” He sat down in the other chair to put his own shoes on. “Or even our parents, at least in my case.” 

She shot him a look as she finishing fastening her garter clasps. “I think you've forgotten that my mother was actually older than yours by several years. Our fathers would be the same age, if they were both still on this earth.” She picked up her shoes. “But I agree. I know my grandmother would turn over in her grave if she knew I've never worn a corset.” 

Ben gave her a look. “You're skinny enough without one.” He finished with his shoes just as there was a knock on the door. “That should be our laundry.” He rose and crossed the room. Rey quickly pulled her skirt straight and buckled her own shoes as she heard him unlock the door. “Si?” She looked up to see him facing a member of the hotel staff holding a small tray, the sort that they used to deliver messages. She turned her attention back to her shoes as she heard him thank the man and then shut the door. “It's a cable from Finn.” 

That made her lift her head again; there was something in his tone that instantly made her more alert. “Ben?” she stood and went over to stand next to him as he opened the telegram, his face slightly paler. “What is it?” 

He scanned the missive and took a deep breath before answering her. “My uncle's ill. Finn has asked us to come back to Jedha.” He set it down on the table, and she set a hand on his arm. “I'm not certain if it's serious or not.” He turned to her and kissed her forehead. “Not the ending to our honeymoon that I was hoping for, but as many a teacher has told me, all dreams must eventually come to an end.”

She kissed his cheek. “Then we'll have our breakfast and make our plans to leave.” she picked up her pocketbook as he gathered his wallet and put on his watch. “I can handle the packing myself, you don't need to worry about that.” 

He gave her a smile. “I'm afraid we'll have to miss the opera.” He took her hand in his as they went towards the door. “And while _Carmen_ is an excellent piece of work, it's also a tragedy. I believe we'd rather see a comedy.” 

“Almost all the greatest theatrical works are tragedies.” They went into the corridor, Ben locking the door behind them. “And between our two families, we have enough tragic material for nearly a dozen operas.” 

**

The rain had changed to a light drizzle as the train pulled out of Milan, bound for Paris by way of Lyon. Ben was going to drive from Paris to Calais, and, should there be no delays, he and Reyes would arrive at Jedha around three in the afternoon the day after tomorrow. Fortunately, there weren't too many people heading north just yet, and the two of them had the compartment to themselves. He had sent a cable back to Finn, stating that they were on their way back, and their estimated time of arrival. He rested his chin on his hand, watching as the city gave way to countryside, the lights becoming piecemeal and darkness settling over the farms of Northern Italy. He glanced over at Rey, who was sleeping stretched out on the seats across from him. Even though it wasn't that late, it'd been an exhausting sort of day and she needed her rest. 

In truth, he had been away from Jedha long enough. He knew that his uncle wanted to reopen the school, and that wasn't going to be possible without his help. It was highly likely that was also why he took on Finn as a padawan, to create some sort of foundation to start with. He glanced over at his sleeping wife again; remembering that while her Force training was barely started, she was educated exceptionally well for someone of the social class she grew up in, or any woman, as a matter of fact. The fact that she spoke three other languages alone was testament of that. She might not be anywhere near a Jedi, but, with the exception of his mother, was the most educated female he had ever met. 

They would have to start from the ground up, and the only way to build any sort of structure meant they would have to start where he himself had started; as a child. Of course, actually finding the children who were Force sensitive was the hardest of the all the tasks. The War had left everything, even the Force, damaged. He pulled away from the window and went to check the lock on the door of the compartment, and, after making sure it was secure, pulled down the shades to hide the interior from the rest of the train. 

Ben stretched out on his seat, head back against the window, folding his arms over his chest. The train's whistle screeched over the noise of the thrum of movement and he closed his eyes, letting the rhythm soothe him into a half-slumber. Back at Jedha, the housekeeper Maz had no doubt begun to air out his quarters; the bedroom that, in any other house or school would be deemed for the headmaster. He'd been afforded the honor for really no other reason than it had the only bed that was long enough for his tall frame. He could remember the day his uncle directed him straight to it, the day he'd returned from the War, still recovering from a host of injuries. 

Between his uncle and Maz, he'd never stood a chance of winning the argument that he didn't need that much room, when he was perfectly content with his simple chamber in the western corner. But no, it was the Blue Room, with its massive furniture that even to him, seemed overlarge. The room with the heavy brocade drapes that, when shut, completely blocked out the night or day, which he supposed had been intended to cut off any distractions while meditating. There were similar drapes that hung around the bed, and the tapestries that decorated the walls were arranged with the same singular purpose. When he'd first moved into it, it'd been too much for him; it was too – well, it was hard to believe that there were such rooms in a house where there were quarters that had just the bare essentials, the greatest ornamentation the rugs on the floor. 

Now he was going to be sharing it; and it suddenly seemed – perfect. 

**

Jedha was in Kent; and Reyes could never think about the place without thinking about the first time she had seen it from the gates. Back then, the gates had been shut and she had felt herself incredibly bold for wrapping her hands around the iron bars, looking in towards the great house that seemed to be the stuff of fairy tales; the branches of trees meeting over the path, making the road to the school look more like a vault than anything else. A riot of green and brown, with a silvery gravel path running through it, a shinning road that led to a house where the Jedi lived and learned. 

The gates were open now, and Ben eased the car off of the road and onto the drive with a familiarity that made her heart turn over; of all the ways she had ever imagined going to Jedha, this had never been one of them. She rubbed tiredly at her eyes; she had spent the nearly all of the last forty-two hours in a moving vehicle of some kind, and she longed for a stationary seat, and some silence. The car stilled just past the lodge and the gates were shut behind them, and then the man who had closed them came up to the driver's side of the car, and Ben automatically rolled down the window. “Good afternoon, Poe.” 

The man smiled in response, then pulled at the brim of his hat at the sight of Rey. “Afternoon, Mr. Organa, Mrs. Organa.” He cleared his throat. “It's not as bad as Mr. Stover might have made it out to be. The doctor was here yesterday and said that Mr. Skywalker is going to be just fine.” 

“Finn is a product of his upbringing, just as we all are.” Ben gave her a smile. “Reyes, this is Poe Dameron, the estate manager.” 

She nodded. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Dameron.” 

“Please, Mrs. Organa, it's Poe.” He turned back to Ben. “I suggest you ask Maz for a full report, if I gave it to you, she'd most likely find some minute detail I missed, such as bulb that failed to produce a bud in the middle of a patch of fifty.” 

Rey covered her mouth to hide her snicker, wondering what sort of person the housekeeper was. Ben had told her about the woman, of course, but she'd met several housekeepers in her day; some of them mean as a pit full of vipers. She also couldn't fathom such a huge plot of flowers. 

“Well, thank you for meeting us, Poe. Sorry to interrupt your afternoon.” Ben answered. “We'll have a full conversation tomorrow, around ten?”

“Yes, Ben.” He touched his cap again. “Welcome home.” 

She nodded as Ben started the car up again and they continued up the drive. “He seems friendly.” 

“He's the most congenial person in Kent, if not all of Southern England.” he shook his head. “He came back to Jedha with me after the War. He needed a job, Jedha needed a manager.” He glanced over at her, smiling. “You're tired.” 

“We're both tired.” she answered, shifting in her seat. “It's been a long two days, with restless sleep and after our lazy days in Italy and Monte, we're no doubt twice as worn out as we'd normally be.” She bit at her bottom lip. “Long mornings lying abed and I believe you were just getting used to sleeping through the nights when we had to leave.” She thought for a moment. “Now Maz is the housekeeper, Mr. Daniels is the butler, and Mrs. Sowerby is the cook?”

“Right.” He frowned. “Mrs. Sowerby only came here recently, she used to be the cook for a girl's boarding school in London, and I've met the headmistress of the establishment. Why anyone would send their daughter to her school is a mystery, as she's a perfect cow of a woman who hasn't realized that the War has changed the way the world works.” 

Reyes lifted an eyebrow. “I know what goes on in those schools; it's the same thing governesses teach, all running a household and how to speak French, and simple mathematics, because Heaven forbid, a woman actually be intelligent.” 

He snickered. “Something like that, yes.” They came out of the vault of trees and into a great open space of drive, easing the car around a patch of green with a statue of a long-dead Jedi knight, given the attire, they were most likely from the reign of George III. “That's Master Qui-Gon Jinn.” He paused. “Sorry, I know you hate when I answer your thoughts.” 

She straightened up. “I wouldn't mind so much if I could do it with the same ease you do.” There were three people standing at the foot of the stairs up to the front door, two men and one woman. The older man was clearly Mr. Daniels, and the man standing on the stair above him, in a suit similar to Ben's must be Mr. Stover, or rather, Finn. The small woman with the long chain of keys must be Maz. “I see that your orders for the household not to be gathered for our arrival have been followed.”

Ben shook his head at her. “What purpose would it serve for them all to be here? You'll meet them when you need to, but I wouldn't put it past Poe to take you round to do the job for me.” He turned off the car and opened the door, and Mr. Daniels was opening hers before she could even reach for the handle. For someone so old, he certainly could move fast. “Well, we're home.” He said to the other man. 

“Master Skywalker already admonished me for cabling you to come back.” He replied, “but if I hadn't done it, Maz would have.” 

Mr. Daniels shut the car door after Reyes stepped outside, coming around to the other side of the car to stand next to Ben, feeling strangely shy. Ben set a hand on the small of her back, and she managed a smile. Maz was looking her over, and Mr. Stover didn't meet her eye. He wasn't good with conversing with strangers any more than she was. 

“Your uncle will want to see you straightaway.” Maz stated, turning her attention to Ben. “Will you have tea in the library or would you rather it was sent up to your uncle's rooms?” 

“It'd be better upstairs, please.” They started up the steps into the house, and Reyes saw a footman appear on the drive, going over to the car and began to remove their bags. “I know my uncle well enough that he'd come down, despite you telling him to stay abed. What did the doctor tell you?” 

“Pneumonia.” Finn answered before Maz could. “A mild case, but pneumonia none the less.” 

Reyes didn't hear the rest of the conversation, she had come to a dead stop in the foyer of the house, looking around in awe. A wide stone staircase was to her left, and she titled her head back to look at the balustrades lining the three floors above her; the steps were covered with a long red rug, held in place by heavy-looking rods pressed against the back of each step. A massive tapestry hung on her right, the main subject was a tree of some kind, the branches did not match – there was elm, ash, oak, even a delicate branch of a dogwood in bloom came from the trunk, which she could not place. 

“I'll take Mrs. Organa to your rooms so she can freshen up.” Maz's voice called her back to the moment. “Let her get settled.” 

“Good.” Ben came over and kissed her cheek. “I'll come and get you when it's time for tea.” He hurried up the stairs with Finn, going up to the second flight and disappearing from view. 

“Come along then.” Maz waved her hand and started up the stairs, and Reyes did her best not to stare at everything; this wasn't going to vanish in the night, there would be more than enough time to explore the house. “You're a quiet one, aren't you, Mrs. Organa?”

“Please, Maz, it's Reyes, or Rey.” She didn't know if she could get used to such formality; particularly since everyone else seemed to go by their first names.

The woman turned and stared at her, suddenly looking about three times her height. “I should have known that boy would bring home a stubborn one. Stubborn like the whole lot of his family. You're Mrs. Reyes, and I'm not going to call you anything else.” 

She nodded in reply and they continued past the second landing and then started down the hall after reaching the third floor. “Mrs. Reyes is fine.” She glanced at the tree tapestry again before they passed beyond it – up here, she could make out a branch of willow and another of oak. “I hope we haven't created too much trouble for you and the rest of the staff.”

“Bother the trouble. I daresay a bit of trouble keeps us limber.” She shook her head. “That boy left here perfectly miserable, and he comes back here completely changed. Any trouble we've gone through is negligible if you've managed to get Benjamin out of that wretched depression that was going to consume him before this year was out.” She looked back at her, and smiled. “and don't you worry about running the household. Between myself and Mr. Daniels, we've managed just fine.”

“I know nothing of doing such a thing.” She noted that the hallway was lined with portraits of past Jedi, although she did not stop to look at them. “Although I wouldn't object to learning.” 

“We'll see.” The woman answered and then came to a set of double doors. “Here we are.” She pushed the doors open. “Your bags will be brought up shortly and one of the maids will unpack for the both of you.” She went into the room and Rey followed, and once again, Jedha surprised her. 

She went over to the windows first, looking out to see the woods that lined the property, and the gardens below. “Thank you, Maz.” 

“You're welcome, Mrs. Reyes.” She turned in the doorway. “I'd suggest you wait for Mr. Organa to bring you down to meet Mr. Skywalker. It's easy to get lost, and while the house is safe, there are things in some rooms that are most definitely not.” She left, leaving Rey alone.

“That I can believe.” She ran her fingers along the tasseled fringe of the drapery, glancing into the room itself; the furniture seemed overlarge; even the mantlepiece around the unlit but waiting hearth seemed better suited to a feasting hall than a bedroom. There were no photographs, no personal looking items that said this was Ben's room – their room – but perhaps that would change. There was one piece of furniture that didn't fit with the rest. It had taken her a moment to realize it, but the pale blue brocade chair on the right-hand side of the fireplace seemed lost in a sea of darker blues. “that must be mine then.” She went over and sat down, despite its delicate appearance, it was comfortable.

“Here you are!” Ben's voice came from the door and she jumped up, surprised. “Sorry, didn't mean to scare you.” 

“It's fine.” She rested her arm on the back of the chair. “you weren't with your uncle very long.” 

“That's because he's told me to stop hiding you and bring you down to meet him.” He paused. “That and I know Finn needs some time to himself.” 

“That I can understand.” She came over to him and he wrapped an arm around her as they left their room. “Solitude is something I believe everyone craves from time to time.”

“True.” He pointed up the hallway. “There are backstairs on the other side of that door. The servants usually take those, and once you know your way around, you'll know if it's quicker to use them or not. I wouldn't worry about it right now.” They went to the main stairs. “I saw you looking at the tapestry. It's not been added to in about twenty years.” He stopped them and pointed to the branches. “The trunk, much like the branches, doesn't belong to any one tree. The trunk represents the Force, the branches are the students.” He sighed, running his fingers along her spine. “There really isn't space for any more branches anyway.” 

She reached down and took his free hand as they went on their way. “It's still beautiful.” 

“That it is.” They went down to the next floor. “I'll show you the whole house tomorrow, after we've both had a good night's sleep and I've talked with Poe. Force knows, between the trains and the drive, neither of us has slept well.” The second floor was much like the third, with its paintings and little furniture. “It'll also be an opportunity to meet the rest of the staff.” 

“I don't want to distract anyone from their work.” She answered and they came to a door that was slightly ajar, and Reyes noticed something about this floor that was markedly different from the one above. Upstairs, all the doors were stained a dark color – and here, the walls and the doors were a shade of ecru – almost white. 

“We won't do that.” He knocked on the door once, and it swung open of it's own accord. “I thought you had been instructed not to strain yourself, uncle.” 

“Nonsense.” a worn voice came from within. “That was nothing.” The room was sunny and pleasant; it seemed far less austere than Reyes expected, and she blinked in surprise at the sight of the man propped up on pillows in a manner that reminded her of Mrs. Antilles, looking completely unperturbed by illness, but the pallor of Mr. Skywalker's face told the truth. “I know you.” He looked straight at Reyes, and she suddenly wanted to hide behind Ben. His eyes were such an intense shade of blue. “You're the little girl who stood at the gate.” 

“I beg your pardon?” Reyes was certain he must be thinking of someone else. 

“Yes, yes, I remember you.” He smiled, and gave her a look. “You needn't be so afraid, niece. I assure you, I'm nowhere near the monster my nephew has told you I am.” 

“Uncle...” Ben groaned and covered his eyes. “I'm trying to do things all proper and you're determined to embarrass me.” 

“Your nephew has said nothing about you being a monster.” Reyes interjected, somehow knowing that she had been given the role of being the sensible one in the house. “And if you're a monster for being grumpy, then I know of a dozen monsters, and you're no doubt the least dangerous of the lot.” 

The man burst out laughing. “Oh, thank the Force, she has a sense of humor!” He waved her forward. “Come here, let me have a better look at you.” 

Ben nudged her forward, and she came to the foot of the bed, and he stood behind her, keeping his hand resting on her back. “You're an old fusspot, Uncle Luke.”

“And you're a young fusspot, Benjamin.” The man retorted, and broke into a coughing fit, covering his mouth with a handkerchief. “Yes, yes – I do remember that day when you were outside the gate, Reyes. Your father was with you.”

“That was a long time ago, un... Uncle Luke. A different world.” She smiled faintly. “For all of us.” 

“So it was.” He smiled and settled back against the pillows. “I remember the day we burned the letters for your class. We had lost track of all of you in the War and the Influenza, and the Force wasn't offering up guidance.” 

“How many letters were there?” She asked without thinking; it was a surprising thought – the idea that she still might have come here, as a student, was unfathomable to her. 

“Thirteen.” Ben answered before his uncle could. “The only other person who remains from what would have been your class Rey, is Finn. The Flu killed the others.” He wrapped his arms around her. “And we used to believe that it took you too.” 

She frowned, and then thought back to that first afternoon in Monte. “I suppose that explains why you were so shocked the day we met – and how you knew who I was.” She wasn't angry; she wasn't certain how she felt about the whole thing. It was confusing, unbelievable and she was too worn out from travel to try and figure anything out right now. 

“And before you think there's been anything done under the table, Reyes, Ben didn't tell me who you were until he sent a telegram telling me whom he had married.” Uncle Luke coughed again and there was a knock on the door behind them. “It's time for tea.” 

*

Finn knew he was perfectly welcome to join Master Skywalker and the others for tea, and as much as he would have liked to, at the same time, he felt hopelessly out of place. When he had learned that Ben was married, he had just as surprised as everyone had been; but to for his wife to turn out to be a Force-sensitive girl, who, by rights, would have been his classmate? It was strange and he still couldn't quite put things together in his mind. He'd done his Jedi History, and he knew that classes were always close with one another, becoming almost siblings. It was part of the reason that the War had left Ben so devastated with the death of his friends. 

Here, he had believed that the Flu had wiped out all of his would-be siblings in the Force, and one was still alive. He should be overjoyed at the news, but this arrangement wasn't – it hadn't been done before. All of the old ways of the Jedi were gone; there weren't enough of them left in Europe to really care about things like _attachment_ and the like. Of course, he knew that Reyes most likely didn't know much more than he did, given that getting information out of either Ben or his uncle was next to impossible. 

“Don't you start brooding, young man.” Maz set a mug of tea in front of him, along with a plate of scones and sandwiches. “You're too young for that.” 

“I'm not brooding.” He said, more to the mug than to the housekeeper. “I've spent the last six months believing I was the last of my class, that the next nearest in age Force user was seven or eight years old, and there's been one alive this entire time!” 

“I won't insult you by saying that the Force works in mysterious ways, because that's the sort of statement the reason so many of the past Jedi go bald from tearing their hair out.” She answered, smiling and sitting down across from him. “Neither of you have had an easy way about it, Finn.” She nudged the plate. “Eat.” 

He looked down at the food and picked up one of the sandwiches. “It's just – I don't know how to process the idea of suddenly not being the only one, I think.” 

“There's precious few Force-sensitives left, so I think you should be happy.” Maz took off her glasses and started to clean the lenses as he bit into the sandwich, tasting cream cheese and spinach. “London was not built in a day. Let the happy couple get settled, wait for Skywalker to get his health back. We are all bound to face what is coming together, and there's no need to hasten anything.” She smiled at him. “Go on, eat some more.” 

“You're as bad as my gran, Maz.” he took a sip of tea. He'd learned rather quickly that Maz Kanata was one of the last people on Earth to ever disagree with.“And yes, I know I need to write her.” 

“As well you should, perhaps writing to her about what's happened will help you sort things out in your mind.” She replaced her glasses as he ate more of his sandwich. “You remember when Benjamin left, and how odd it seemed to us, that of all the places to go, he went to Monte Carlo? That was the Force at work, be certain of it.” She straightened up. “Now hurry along and finish your tea. Now that Benjamin is home, I believe you would like to go down to the lodge and visit Poe.” She smiled in that secretive way that was both unnerving and at the same time, endearing. “I'll have Mrs. Sowerby pack you a basket of scones to take him.” She stood. “Should I tell Mr. Daniels to set the table for three or for two tonight?” 

Finn ducked his head, looking into his mug. “Two. It's been a while since Poe and I were able to spend any length of time.” He picked up another sandwich. “I mean...”

“I'm not going to say a thing, and from what I can tell, Benjamin and Reyes are going to have the devil of a time acting with decorum most days.” She smiled. “You could see it in them too, couldn't you? Benjamin can barely believe she's real, and Reyes seems to believe this is all some sort of dream.” 

“I think it's adorable.” He took a rather large bite of sandwich.

“That it is.” She paused. “I'll have Mrs. Sowerby pack you a basket of food for dinner to take with you. That man can barely cook and we tend to have more than we can eat in this house.” She brushed out of the small anteroom and headed for the kitchen. 

Finn picked up his mug and drained the last of his tea. 

*

Ben saw Finn leave the house when he came down from his uncle's room, and he smiled to himself as he watched him head down the drive towards Poe's house. Everyone on staff knew about the two of them and while society would deem such things inappropriate and morally wrong, he'd not really given it a second thought. The staff all looked the other way as well. There was a string of Jedi in the past who felt the same as those two did, and he often thought that one should just worry about what they themselves were doing. As long as both were adults and consenting, where was the problem? He himself was no more allowed to kiss Reyes in public the way he did in private than Finn and Poe would. 

Technically, he and Rey weren't even supposed to hold hands in public, married or not. 

Society had too many stupid rules. 

“Will you and Miss Reyes be changing for dinner, Mr Organa?” Mr. Daniels came out from the dining room. 

“No, not tonight, Daniels. It's been a long day and there's no reason for it.” He smiled. “Please tell me Mrs. Sowerby hasn't gone overboard again.” 

“No, sir. Although she is insisting that with your uncle ill, everyone must have beef tea at the start of every meal until he is well.” He smiled in reply. “She also did not want to prepare anything out of the ordinary without checking to see if there is any food that makes her ladyship ill.” 

He shook his head. “Not that I'm aware of.” it sounded rather odd to hear Reyes being called 'her ladyship' even if that's who she technically was. Well, at least it made her sound younger than if she was called madame. “In fact, if you could just set everything on the sideboard, and we'll help ourselves the same we do at breakfast, that would be perfectly fine. I for one, am too tired from the journey to bother with formality.” 

“Very good, sir.” Mr. Daniels inclined his head and walked back into the dining room. 

Ben stood in the foyer for a moment, then walked towards the library for the books his uncle had asked for. He would go up to his and Rey's room after he delivered them; despite the past few days, it'd been nearly two full days since they'd been completely alone, and dinner wasn't going to be for at least an hour and a half. 

*

The day had been overwhelming, and it wasn't over yet. Reyes was relieved that she and Ben weren't changing for dinner, but she knew that such casualness would most likely be gone before the week was out. She came back to their room to find their clothing unpacked, and even her brushes were laid out on the dresser. She'd yet to see another member of the house staff, and it was curious how it had all just been _done_. It wasn't like the staff who had come and made beds in the hotels and tidied things up while they were out of the rooms, it seemed, well, more personal. 

She had a feeling that when she and Ben came back from dinner, they would find the bed turned down, the fire lit, and the drapes closed. A new routine to learn, and one that would become every day and normal; most likely she'd be completely adjusted to within a month. She went over to the wardrobe she'd found her own clothes in and took out a pair of slippers, and a clean pair of stockings. Changing or not, she was going to get out of these wretched buckled shoes and wear something a little more comfortable, and clean. She'd been wearing the same shoes since they left Milan, and she'd had to switch notches on the straps several times. 

Going over to her chair, she set the slippers down before sitting and pulling off her current pair, letting out a loud groan as her feet were free of the leather. “Much better.” She stretched her feet out, then busied herself freeing her legs and feet from the stockings. Taking those garments off was almost better than the shoes. She wiggled her toes, hating the fact that she'd have to put on shoes again shortly. “Blast it, I'll leave them off until I have to go back down.” She leaned back in her seat, putting the brocade pillow on her side, and closed her eyes, resting her head against the high arm of the chair. 

Breathe in. Breathe out. 

The room was so quiet; it was the first really quiet room she'd been in for a long time. There had always been the occasional noise from a neighboring room in the hotels, or on the floor above, and Reyes didn't want to even think about how dreadfully noisy the trains had been. She was alone for the first time since the morning of her and Ben's wedding; something that she could barely remember, even though it was less than a month ago. She focused on her breathing, and she felt her body slowly relax, piece by piece.

_Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump._

She jolted at the sound and opened her eyes, looking around, thoroughly confused. The noise had been so loud a moment ago, like someone was pounding on a drum right behind her. She focused for a moment, wondering if somewhere outside someone was using a hammer, or if elsewhere in the house someone was working. 

Nothing. It was quiet again.

“I'm overtired.” She muttered and closed her eyes, turning her attention to her breathing. She was going to go down to dinner relaxed. 

_Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump._

The sound was back, not as loud as before, but still as steady, a quick, even staccato that thrummed in her head, an insistent beat that was demanding her attention, insisting on her noticing. 

Beat. 

She bit at her lip, certain she was imagining it, certainly it couldn't be – not so early, it was unthinkable. Reyes slid her hand over her stomach, and the sound grew loud again, a heartbeat that was too fast and too small to be her own. She focused, and then, with the quick beat, she heard her own heart, slow and even.

“Rey?” Ben's hand was on her arm and she jumped, nearly falling out of her chair. “Are you all right?” he was kneeling in front of her, his face drawn with worry. “I thought you were asleep, you didn't answer me when I came into the room, are you feeling all right?”

“Ben.” She gasped and slid her hand into his hair and pulled his head against her still-flat stomach. “Tell me I'm not imagining it. Tell me you can hear it too.” 

“Hear...” His next word never left his mouth and he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her forward so he could hold her. The emotion seeping off of him was starting to consume her, the way her emotions were flooding him. “It's there, darling. It's not your imagination, I can hear it too.” He sounded ready to burst into tears or laughter. “Oh, _Force_ , it's real.” 

Reyes bent slightly so her face was pressed into the back of her husband's head, and then she could hear three heartbeats; hers, Ben's – and swift and rapid compared to theirs, was their child, nestled safe within her womb. They had not discussed children, other than an idea of it happening eventually, not right away. It seemed that some day was now, and really, given their inability to keep their hands off of each other in private, they shouldn't be surprised. Perhaps it was finding out now, before there was any other hint of pregnancy, that made it so surprising. “Our secret for now?” She didn't want anyone else knowing; not right away. 

“Yes.” He leaned up to kiss her, his lips pulling on her bottom one. “Our secret.” He tugged on her hips, pulling her out of the chair and she fell into his lap, her legs sprawled on either side of his hips as he pressed his lips against her neck, his hand slipping up under her skirt. 

“Ben, aren't we supposed to go down to dinner soon?” She let out a breathy laugh as he traced the shell of her ear with his tongue. “Ben!” She tugged on his hair, and he withdrew to look at her. “I'm being serious. What if someone comes in?”

He smoothed down her hair, smiling. “No one is going to come in, Reyes. We have at least an hour before we need to start getting ready to go down.” He lifted her chin. “But if you'd rather not, I understand.” 

She leaned forward, nuzzling his neck. “You didn't mention we had so much time. It'd be a pity to waste it just talking. Talking is all we've had for the past two days. Talking and lousy sleep.” She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her mouth to his. There would be plenty of time to talk later; right now, all the communication they needed was the touch of skin on skin, and reconnecting after their journey. 

For now, this was all that mattered.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had no beta. All mistakes are my own.

The faint thump of a door closing brought Rey out of the half-slumber she had been drifting in, and she yawned, stretching out in the bed, becoming more aware when she found that for the first time in several weeks, she was alone. She sprang up to a sit, looking around the massive bedroom, confused. Sunlight streamed in from the high windows and a low fire still burned in the grate, and as she turned to her bedside table, she picked up the small clock to find that it was just past eight in the morning. The last time she had looked at at the time was when she passed the tall grandfather clock in the corridor outside the dining room, and it had been nine. 

She rubbed at her eyes, wondering how long ago Ben had risen and left their room. Yawning, she raised her arms over her head, her stomach giving an audible rumble as she did. “Breakfast.” She mumbled to herself and threw back the bedclothes and lowered herself to the floor, her feet searching for her slippers. “Wasn't there a foot stool over here?” She crouched down, looking under the bed and chuckled. “Wrong side, silly.” She went around the bed and pulled on her robe and slippers, heading for the bath.

She stopped short when she caught sight of a tea tray sitting on the table between the two chairs, one cup still upside down on its saucer, the second resting with a spoon next to it. Rey brightened at the sight and quickly filled the unused cup, and returned to her side of the bed, opening the biscuit jar she had seen the other day and lifted the lid. Lying inside were half a dozen biscuits, heavy with oats and raisins. “Just one to last me until I go down to breakfast.” She took one from the jar and returned to her chair to drink her tea. She snapped the baked treat in half, leaving part on her saucer as she took a bite of the other. It was just sweet enough; and it was still warm from the oven. When she had looked in the jar yesterday afternoon, it had been empty – she hadn't even known what the odd thing had been for. Biscuit jars belonged in the kitchen, not bedrooms.

Ben had laughed and told her that he could remember that the jar next to his mother's bedside had never seemed to run out of gingerbread, and how she would probably find something inside it tomorrow. He also told her that she wasn't _expected_ to eat what was inside, it was there in case she was hungry while in their room and didn't want to bother with having the kitchen send something up, or ringing a bell. A convenience of sorts, and she was glad of it. 

She finished with the first half and ate the second as she walked into the bath, turning on the hot water to wash her face. In the wan electric light, she was certain she looked paler than normal, but she could dismiss that as still recovering from her and Ben's long journey from Milan. She quickly finished washing up and, after stepping into her shift, she paused, turning sideways in front of the mirror in the dressing room and setting a hand on her stomach. Looking in the mirror, she was certain that she was only imagining the small change there. Closing her eyes, it only took Rey a moment to separate her heartbeat from that of the baby's – and she smiled, swaying slightly at her and Ben's secret. “Don't worry, Reyes, it'll show soon enough.” 

After pulling on a skirt, blouse, and jacket, sweeping her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck, she stepped back into the bedroom to finish her cup of tea as she put on her shoes and stockings. This was a new routine to get used to; and it wasn't just her. The staff would have to adjust to there being a fourth member of the family now – Finn already counted as one, in her mind – and truth be told, she had no idea how many people worked on the staff. She went back over to her bedside and put her wedding and engagement rings on before she left the room, leaving the door ajar as she headed for the stairs. 

Jedha was only the second grand home she had ever been in, but it already put Downton to shame. While that house had been lovely and impressive, it also had an air of superficiality, or it was just a set in a motion picture waiting to be inhabited by a string of any Gothic heroes or heroines, from Mr. Darcy to Jane Eyre. Jedha, by contrast, had the feeling that while it was currently empty, had been lived in; it had a history all its own, it felt important without the false sense of superiority. This had been more than a school, it had been a _home_. Rey slowly went down the stairs, her hand sliding down the stone balustrade, and she sensed that there had been more than one scholar who had chosen to slide down the rail than take the stairs. 

Going down the short corridor into the dining room, she found Ben inside, scanning a letter, a pile of mail next to his plate, and Finn, who had a book propped up in front of him as he ate his breakfast. 

Ben noticed her first. “Good morning.” He stood up as she came into the room, and there was a soft thud as Finn stood as well. 

“Good morning.” She managed a smile and went to retrieve her plate from the table, then went over to the sideboard where Mr. Daniels was standing. 

“Coffee or tea, madam?” He asked, indicating the two pots standing on the end of the sideboard next to him.

“Tea, please, Mr. Daniels.” She answered before turning her attention to the rest of the dishes before her. There was more food than the three of them could possibly eat set out for their morning meal. Or even all four of them, if Uncle Luke could come downstairs. Fried eggs, bacon, ham, stewed tomatoes, fried potatoes, porridge, a bowl of fruit: apples in two different shades, oranges, tangerines, bananas, and peaches, and looking back at the table, Rey could see a basket of toast and several pots of jam. She helped herself to an egg, bacon and an orange, returned the plate to the table before serving herself a small bowl of porridge. No sooner had she sat down than the pot of strawberry jam slid across the table of its own accord, and she shot a look at her husband. “Show off.” 

He smirked over his letter before looking at Finn. “You know, you might read a hole through that book if you're not careful.” 

“What?” the man looked up, and then ducked his head, marking his place and setting the book aside. “Sorry.”

“It's fine.” Rey answered before Ben could as she added jam to her porridge, and gave Finn a reassuring look. “I'm certain you've had to sit in here by yourself as of late and need something to distract you from how huge this table is.” 

Finn snickered, picking up his fork as Rey put her napkin in her lap. “It is big.” he looked down towards the far end of the room. “Although it helps that the chairs are not all at the table.” 

Ben nodded and she saw him glance behind her, and she half turned in her chair, and saw the long row of chairs against the far wall, and she immediately turned back around, her stomach turning over. They might not be at the table, but they were still in the room. He'd probably sat at this table scores of times with every chair full. She picked up her spoon and mixed her porridge and jam together, and glanced across from her to the book that Finn had been reading.

“ _A Tale of Two Cities_? You haven't read that?” Rey ducked her head, worried that she'd been rude. “I mean...”

“No, it's okay.” Finn chuckled. “I didn't have time to read much fiction growing up, so I'm working my way through all the books that everyone in Britain should.” He used a piece of toast to soak up the yolk from his fried egg. “Although I don't think I can get through another Jane Austen in a while.” 

“Do you have a reading list, or are you just going in a circle of authors?” She asked before eating a spoonful of porridge. 

“The later.” He answered, turning his attention to his plate. 

Rey worked her way around her breakfast, thankful for the quiet of the room. After weeks of hearing conversations all around her for the first meal of the day, the change was welcome. Ben had told her that breakfast would always be a meal to themselves, and that there was never any rush to eat. She glanced to her left at Ben, who was frowning at something in the letter he was reading, then he rolled his eyes, folded the letter up and gave her a smile as he opened the next one.

_Eat your breakfast, sweetheart._

She wrinkled her nose at him and picked up her bacon, and saw Finn watching the two of them, looking from her to Ben and back. “Yes?”

“Finn's not used to seeing me in a good mood, Reyes.” Ben answered before the other man could, picking up his teacup and smirking. “And that reminds me, Mr. Dameron will be joining us for luncheon. The usual time, we have some things to discuss about the estate and it will be far simpler to just continue on through the meal, than to pause.” He smiled. “Nothing to it.” He gathered up his letters and rose from the table, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “that's at one o'clock, I'm certain you can find something to help you pass time.” He nodded to Finn, and then walked out of the dining room, leaving the two of them alone. 

The other man shook his head as he ate another bite of egg, his eyes darting over to the book and then back at her. It was an odd sort of meal; and, with the exception of tea yesterday, the first one Reyes had had with someone other than Ben present. She was certain that Finn had to be nearly as uncertain as she felt; she was terrible at making conversation. She took a slice of toast from the small rack on the table and broke the yolk of her fried egg with it. “So you enjoy reading then, Mr Stover?”

He spluttered and then chuckled. “I do, and it's Finn, Mrs Organa.” 

“Rey or Reyes.” She answered, keeping her focus on her egg. “What genre do you prefer? In fiction?”

“Science Fiction, most notably the works of Jules Verne. Have you read anything by him?” She saw him smile as he straightened his shoulders, wiping the remnants of his breakfast up with his toast, using his fork to scoop the bits of bacon onto the bread. “You don't exactly strike me as someone who sticks to Jane Austen and the Bronte Sisters.”

“I enjoyed _Journey to the Center of the Earth_ , but after reading _Twenty-thousand Leagues Under the Sea_ , I was convinced that mankind would all sleep better at night not knowing what's really down there in the ocean. Surely space itself is safer.” 

He laughed in response, and shook his head. “Given some of the things I've seen appear on the docks in London, I can agree with you there.” He wiped his mouth before setting his napkin down and taking up his book. “I'll see you at lunch, Reyes.” He walked out of the room, leaving her feeling somewhat bewildered. She looked over at Mr Daniels, who shook his head slightly.

“Mr Stover is not yet accustomed to the changes at table, Mrs Organa.” He inclined his head, and then looked at the sideboard. “Did you need anything else?”

She shook her head. “No, thank you, Mr. Daniels.” She smiled and returned to her breakfast.

*

Ben found Poe waiting for him halfway down the drive, standing just inside the shadows cast by the trees. How his friend always managed to look so bright, no matter the hour or the day, he had no idea. He reached him and held out his hand. “Morning, Poe.”

The man shook it, then clamped him on the shoulder. “Morning Ben. Don't tell me you've decided to act all formal, or some such nonsense, have you?” 

“Ha!” He smirked and they started back down towards the gate. “I have to put up the front some times when I don't have to, so I don't act informal when formality is required.” He took a deep breath, resting his hands behind his back. “How are the tenants?”

“Quite well, spring planting is nearly complete, and the orchards seem to have weathered the winter, with little damage from the storms.” They were nearly at the lodge. “Of course, I'm paraphrasing, and have more details written down inside.” 

“I knew there couldn't be any sort of major issues, Poe. I'd have been called home from the Continent sooner if there had.” He waited for the man to unlock the door and then they went inside. “How have the structures fared? With the snow this past winter, I was worried for some of the tenant houses.” 

Poe went over to the work table, where there were several stacks of papers. “No real damage to anything, I'm glad to report. We replaced the wooden gates, and have begun clearing out the lumber in the woods.” He indicated the stove. “Did you want some tea?”

“No, thank you.” He came over to the table, looking the stacks over. “I think the only work that may come up on the estate anytime soon is within the house itself. The classrooms need some work.” He gave his friend a look. “We're going to reopen the school.” 

His eyes widened. “Truly?” He scanned the desk. “I wasn't aware of that.” 

“It's still in the planning stages, and we have to find students first.” He managed a slight laugh. “Not to mention that both Reyes and Finn have to learn enough to teach themselves. Although I believe Rey will most likely be teaching languages.” He paused, and saw the look on the other man's face. “You didn't know that Rey is Force-sensitive?” 

“I did. Finn told me last night.” He coughed and picked up his mug of tea, looking at the papers between them. “The school reopening, that's a strange concept to me, I've only known it to be closed, so it's a bit – hard to picture, if you'll forgive me for the expression.” 

Ben smiled faintly. “It's fine. It's been ten years, and it does no good for us to dwell on the past and wish for better days. The world has started to move on. So must Jedha.” 

“Are there many Force-sensitive people left in Europe?” His tone sounded uncertain; almost afraid.

Ben pulled out one of the chairs and sat down, doing his best to hide the wince as his joints popped. “What few remain are either older than my uncle, or are children.” He slid the nearest stack of paper towards him, information about the lambs that had been born in April. “There's much work to be done before Jedha can throw open its gates once more.” He rubbed his temple, the smiled absently. “Although if we did teach children, we would also provide a full education along with it. Reading, arithmetic, science, history, languages.” 

Poe set his mug down with a thump. “Well, Ben, as you do not have lessons plans to construct or students to teach, let's get you caught up on the estate. Who knows, maybe we can finish it before lunch and actually talk about something besides work for a change.” 

*

Rey turned left instead of right after leaving the dining room, heading down the paneled hallway, remembering that the drawing room was in the front of the house, she'd glimpsed it last night when she and Ben went upstairs, but the idea of it didn't interest her. A drawing room was a drawing room, wasn't it? With chairs and couches, tables and well, what good did it do to into a room for conversation when she had no one to converse with? What little artwork there was on the walls were all landscapes, and when she came to the end of the corridor, it split three ways – and she could see in front of her what had to be the servant's stairs to the kitchens. To her left, there was another long hall, but to her right, was a set of double doors.

“What's this?” She stepped up to the doors, they had to be doors, the wood was different from the walls, and fitted her hand into the grove in the middle, and with a slight tug, was able to push it aside. “Pocket door.” She chuckled and created an opening just wide enough to slip through. 

The room within was long and wide, easily as large as the dining room of the hotel back in Monte, but there was little furniture, and what there was, were draped in dust cloths, creating odd, indecipherable shapes scattered throughout the space. The four chandeliers were covered the same as the furniture, the ceiling was at least five meters above her. None of the other rooms she'd seen on this floor were so tall, and she closed her eyes, trying to remember how the house looked on the outside. She knew she was on the north side, her and Ben's room's windows faced south. “Take a walk outside later today.” she murmured to herself and opened her eyes.

The faint scent of roses lingered in the air, and she moved to stand in the center of the floor, looking down to see the leaf motif worked into the tile, and she looked back towards the door, expecting to see a trail of her footprints, and was surprised to see there were none. “So they clean the floor every now and then.” Frowning, she then looked up at the ceiling, scanning the distant panels, and raised her hand, counting slowly as she did. “Bedrooms...” She took ten steps to her right and looked back up, and she could feel the tiny flicker in the Force, and she grinned. “Uncle Luke's room.” she smiled and walked towards the nearest set of towering drapes, their height had to be at least twice Ben's. 

A small cloud of dust rose up as she pulled one of the curtains aside, and Rey stepped back, coughing as a shaft of sunlight drove out shadows to let her see the room properly. “Ballroom.” she chuckled, shaking her head at the realization. “Ballroom, but I'm guessing it was never used for that. Or rarely.” She tugged the drape back into place, letting loose another small torrent of dust and she took her handkerchief from her pocket to cover her sneeze as she went back to the doors, slipping into the hall and shutting the door behind her. 

“Are you all right, Mrs. Organa?” Mr. Daniels' voice caused her to fall back against the doors, feeling oddly guilty. 

“I'm fine, Mr. Daniels. I was just looking around and...” She stopped speaking and straightened up, trying not to look like a cowering child. “If that's all right, thank you.” 

He smiled and stepped forward to let a footman carrying a tray laden with dishes past. “This is your home, Madam, and I will tell you again what I am certain Maz has already told you; looking around is perfectly fine, but do not touch anything you cannot identify. Most things are harmless, but some most certainly are not.” 

She stuffed the scrap of fabric back into her pocket. “Thank you, Mr. Daniels.” She stepped away from the doors. “Is this the only way into the ballroom?” 

He shook his head. “There are several other doors to the assembly room along this corridor madam. We have not used that particular room in several years. Not since before the War.” 

She nodded. “I understand.” She swallowed. “I'll... I'll let you get on with your work then.” 

“Of course, madam.” He paused. “Mrs Sowerby has requested that you set up a time for speaking with her and Maz on the meals served here at Jedha. Breakfast and tea are done by routine, of course, but Mrs. Sowerby states that she is welcome to any changes you wish to see.” 

Rey blinked in surprise. Meals? Ben had told her that Maz would see to the running of the house, didn't Mr. Daniels know that? “I'm a little new to this, Mr. Daniels.” She bit her lip before speaking again. “Please tell Mrs. Sowerby I'll need some time to judge if there's anything that I would like to see changed. A week, at least.” 

Mr. Daniels bowed slightly. “Of course, madam. Have a good morning, and I will see you at luncheon this afternoon.” 

“Thank you.” She gave him a smile and started down the corridor, heading deeper into the house. The corridor seemed lighter than the other, and the doors all had panes of decorative glass set into them. Most of the patterns seemed to be vague interpretations of flowers or trees, another showed the sun. Despite the windows, the rooms within were hidden behind shades, pale with age, but offering no glimpse to what lay beyond. Every door she tried was locked, and even when she tried to nudge the mechanism with the Force, the bolts remained in place. She thought of the ring of keys she had seen hanging at Maz's side, and of the nearly identical one she had noted on her new uncle's dresser. The prospect of asking for either set just to satisfy her curiosity didn't last long. She could wait a while longer before doing so; or she could merely ask Ben what was behind the doors.

As she came to the end of the hall, she stopped in front of a large framed map, the countries belonging to the British Empire in red, the rest of the countries in various shades of green. It was outdated; the newly established countries brought into existence following the War were not marked. She set a finger on the rim of the frame, and then noted something else; the locations of schools for Force-sensitive people were marked, stars with circles around them. She smiled and stepped back, turning to the door facing her and tried the knob, and, when it gave way to her touch, she let go of it in shock. The glass pane was a geometric design, blue and red. “What's in here?” She stepped into the room, and found herself standing at the front of a classroom. 

Five rows of five desks, facing a larger desk at the front, and a blackboard. There was a single word written across the board, in a great, looping, unfamiliar hand; _RENEW_

“I wonder who or what that's directed towards.” She glanced down at the teacher's desk, and ran had hand along the wood, her fingers leaving a trail in the dust. “So empty...” She turned and went back to the corridor, shutting the classroom door firmly behind her. Now that she was near the end of the hall, she could see that once more, it branched off into another, narrow hallway, and there was another set of stairs to her right. “Wonder where that one leads.” Making a note to check shortly, she turned to face the wide paneled door in front of her, the first she'd seen without windows for a while.

“Can't be a bedroom, not on the first floor.” she put her hand on the knob, half expecting it to be locked like the classrooms, but it opened with ease and she stepped into the room beyond and felt her jaw drop.

It was a library. Not _just_ a library – but the most incredible library Reyes had ever seen in her life. It stretched out what had to be at least half the length of the house, and she could feel her hands trembling with the weight of what she was standing in. She took a few more steps into the room and tilted her head back to see that the library wasn't just one floor – it went up two more stories, shelves upon shelves of books; the sheer number of volumes and tomes within beyond her comprehension. It would take her a month just to figure out where everything was. 

Her hands came up to cover her mouth as she turned around, and she didn't know if it was her or the Force trembling around her; this mountain of knowledge and it was in her home. She lived in the same house as this incredible thing; this beautiful, impossible room - 

“Overwhelming, isn't it?” A voice called from above and she turned to see Finn leaning against a railing on the second floor, watching her.

She nodded and, after swallowing, found her voice. “It didn't think there were so many books in all of the British Empire, let alone England.” 

Finn chuckled. “It's the second largest private library in the country, surpassed only by Buckingham Palace.” He looked around, shaking his head. “I couldn't believe it either, when I first saw it. Although they're not all written in English.” He looked away for a moment and she saw him frown before turning back to her. “Don't suppose you can read Russian, can you?”

“I'm afraid not, although I can read Latin.” She grinned. “My grandmother insisted.” 

He laughed. “Would that be your mom's mom, or your dad's mom?” 

“Both, actually.” she noticed a staircase nearby and headed for it. “Although I haven't read it in a while, so I'd probably need a dictionary.” she climbed up the stairs, pausing at the break to look at the slightly higher view before continuing up. 

“I should learn another language, apart from the crass statements I know in about a dozen.” Finn called as she came to the top of the stairs. “I'd like to apologize if I was rude at breakfast this morning.” 

“No, you weren't rude at all. You're not used to having company for breakfast, not to mention it's hard to have a conversation before one has completely awakened.” She came over and joined him at the balustrade, still in shock at the sight of all the books around them. “How is this place organized? I'm already dreading trying to figure out where to locate anything.”

Finn grinned, straightening up. “Well, the third floor is where all the fiction is, including poetry, literature, plays, reading that is done for entertainment value, I suppose, is shelved.” 

She grinned. “I know what you mean.” She glanced upward. “It's all huge, whatever it is.” 

“Agreed.” He gestured towards the first floor. “That's where all the books you'd find in most libraries in England are. History, philosophy, mathematics, the basic sort of things.” He straightened, a small, playful smile on his lips. “Which leaves the second floor.” They both turned and Rey took in the stacks, already knowing what was on this level.

“This is where all the books on studies of the Force are. The history, the whole of it...”

“And how.” Finn chuckled. “I have a reading list two meters long from Professor Skywalker and I've barely made a dent in it. It seems I no sooner finish one book then he adds two more to it.”

She gave him a look. “Then stop telling him when you finish. Get halfway through your list and then let him know.” She shrugged. “I once did the sums several lessons ahead in my arithmetic book and spent the work time daydreaming while appearing to look busy.” 

He laughed. “I don't think it'll be that easy, Mrs. Organa, he'll _know._ ” He glanced down at his watch before going to the long table where she guessed he'd been working before she came in. “It's a quarter to noon, if you want to look around for a while, I'll tell you when it's half past, so you have time to get back up to you and Ben's room and wash up before lunch.” 

She smiled, and she could feel his awkwardness at the situation they were currently in. “You haven't spent much time around girls, have you Mr. Stover?”

He ducked his head. “I thought I told you to call me, Finn, Mrs. Organa. And no, not since grammar school, and after that, the only one I was constantly with was my gran.” Finn drummed his fingers on the book in front of him, and glanced at her. “She lives with my aunt now. I last saw them at Christmas.” 

“It's Rey or Reyes, Finn. As you know quite well.” She smiled. “That must have been nice. What family I have left live all the way in the States.” She took out her handkerchief again and rubbed her nose. “I'll leave you to your studies, Finn.” She turned and headed for the nearest stairs, deciding to start with the fiction section; that seemed safe.

“Thank you.” He answered, and a moment later she heard the scuffle of chair and the soft groan of a book opening. 

She went up the narrow spiral staircase, the wood creaking slightly as she came to the top, and she inhaled the deep, wonderful scent of paper and bindings. The smell that she always loved, but had so rarely been able to indulge in. 

*

It was almost one when Ben returned to the house with Poe. They had done most of the planing for the summer already, and with work out of the way, they could have a pleasant lunch instead of having business hanging over the table like an unwelcome guest. They came into the entrance hall just as Reyes and Finn were coming down the stairs, and he frowned. He was certain that his wife had not been wearing her pink suit jacket when he left this morning, but instead had been wearing one that was green. The look on her face was one of amused resentment, and Finn appeared to be trying to keep his distance without looking like he was.

“You neglected to tell me there was a colony of dust bunnies up there.” She seethed, but Ben could tell she was trying to hold back her laughter.

“If I had known they were there, hiding behind _The Strand_ shelf, I would have told you.” He answered, neither of them had noticed his and Poe's presence yet. “Why do you want to read the stories in that format? The complete works are two rows over!” 

Ben chuckled. “I take it you found the library, Reyes.” 

“Yes!” Her eyes were bright and she came down and hugged him. “And you never thought to tell me just how big it is! I was expecting it'd be something similar in size to the one at Downton, but it's....”

“I know.” He kissed her cheek, and saw Finn look away from her and towards Poe, and he withdrew, loathed as he was to do it. He made a note to ask her what the two of them had talked about later. “I guess that answers the question of how you spent your morning.”

Mr. Daniels appeared in the corridor. “Luncheon is ready.” He stated as he looked the four of them over, and Ben nodded. 

“Thank you, Mr. Daniels.” He offered Rey his arm and they went into the dining room and he noticed the change instantly. Nearly all of the chairs that went with the table were now out of the room, save for ten – five chairs on each side, but only four were close together at the head of the table, the remaining three were further along. “Did you know about this?” He whispered to Rey as they went to the far side of the table and he held her chair out for her.

“No. And neither does Finn before you ask, we were both in the library.” she replied.

“Professor Skywalker asked for the chairs to be removed.” Mr. Daniels stated, “if you'll pardon the interruption. He made the request when Joshua brought him his breakfast this morning.” 

“Joshua's one of the footmen.” Poe stated before Ben or Finn could tell Rey.

“Very good, Mr. Daniels.” Ben was relieved at the absence of the chairs; he hated sitting at this table with them all in place, an uncomfortable reminder of just how much had been lost. “Thank you.” 

The man nodded and a moment later, another of the footmen came into the room, carrying a tray with four soup bowls on it; the smell of rich beef broth lingering in the air as they were set in front of each of them, and then a popover was placed on each of their bread plates, before the footman – Ben couldn't remember his name – retreated and Mr. Daniels took up his post by the dining room door. 

“I thought Finn had been kidding when it came to the beef tea.” Poe stated as Ben saw Rey put her napkin in her lap.

“If you'd like to raise the argument against it with Mrs. Sowerby or Maz, please let me know so that we may all watch and be thoroughly entertained.” Ben quipped, and beside him, he heard Rey snicker. “I didn't think you were a fool, Dameron.” 

“I know better.” Poe smiled, pulling his bread in half. “However, it is nearly summer, and pneumonia is not contagious.” 

“Again, do you want to have this discussion with Maz and Mrs. Sowerby?” Ben picked up his spoon, shaking his head. 

“It's excellent broth.” Rey interjected, and he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Some people in this world have a maternal instinct, whether they are mothers or not. They'll behave that way towards anyone who needs it, or even if they don't. It's always better to let them carry on rather than to try and end it.” 

“There you are, voice of reason.” Finn answered, grinning.

“I'm afraid you're outnumbered Poe.” Ben picked up his spoon and ate some of the soup; it was just as rich as it was last night at dinner, the warmth suffusing him to his toes. They ate for a few moments in silence, the loudest sound the slight scrape of spoons on the surface of the bowl, and the occasional soft thump of water glasses. The quiet was the hardest thing and the most welcome thing about being home. After weeks of eating in rooms full of people, despite not sharing a table, now it was just a few, and conversation seemed irrelevant. He saw Rey set her spoon down on her soup plate as she finished, and he could tell she was itching to take the remnants of her popover to sop up what was left in the bowl. “How are you studies going, Finn?”

“I'm under the impression that my reading list doubles when I'm sleeping.” the man chuckled. “Although I will say that I am extremely grateful to whomever transcribed the letters of the Eighteenth Century Masters into type-text. Deciphering handwriting would surely make things twice as hard.”

“I believe that was Kenobi.” He made a face, he had vague memories of the man he was named for, and from what he could recall, Kenobi always looked tired. “He was of the impression that with the changing times, such formal script would be obsolete before the Twentieth Century was done. I don't know if that will be the case, but given what wretched handwriting some of the old masters had, even the most tenacious of scholars will be thankful.” 

Joshua returned to the dining room and the soup plates were removed and replaced by salad.

*

After luncheon, Reyes excused herself from the group, stating she was still recovering from the journey and returned to her and Ben's room upstairs. She pulled off her shoes and stockings before falling back on the bed, hugging a throw pillow to her as she closed her eyes. She had spent most of the morning on her feet, and, coupled with the long journey, and well, being pregnant – she was far more tired than she normally was at two thirty in the afternoon. Something she would have to grow accustomed to, along with many other things. Just lying down was already working wonders on her; she could feel her lunch settling in her stomach and the soreness was easing out of her feet. 

A soft knock on her door caused her to sit up in alarm, wondering if she had actually fallen asleep and it'd been hours. No, that wasn't it. “Yes?” She called, and a moment later, Maz came into the room, carrying a book.

“I didn't know you were resting, Mrs Rey, I would have let you sleep.” she set the book on the bedside table, adjusting her glasses. “Are you well, madam?”

“I'm tired, Maz. I'm still worn out from the journey here.” She glanced at the table, towards the book, and a small flutter went through her. “What's that?”

The woman chuckled and held it out to her. “Professor Skywalker sent this up to you, I believe he may feel you need to start your lessons, if you and Finn are to both be the first of the new students of Jedha.” 

She took the book and ran her fingers along the cover, then opening it, flipping through the pages, and then stopped at the title page: _A Brief History of the Force._ She had read this book, years ago, when she was a teenager. But it certainly couldn't hurt to read it again. “Thank you, Maz.”

“You're welcome, child.” the woman smiled and went to the door. “You go on and rest, Mrs Reyes, I don't care what that stubborn young man downstairs says. He's not having company for tea again until he's well enough to get himself out of bed and not exhaust himself in doing so.” She left the room, shutting the door behind her. 

“This is a strange house. With equally strange people in it.” She shook her head and adjusted the throw pillows so she could prop herself up against them and settled into read. 

Outside, the clouds began to back up, the sky starting to bear the signs of storms.


	7. Chapter 7

Rey stared solemnly at her reflection in the mirror, looking herself over critically for the first time in at least a month. She stepped back, frowning slightly at the blue dress she had worn when she first had dinner with Ben. The green one she had originally planned on wearing was too tight around her chest and middle. While everyone in the household knew of her condition, they weren't quite ready to announce it to the world. She turned to the side, biting her bottom lip, noting it covered her barely-round stomach and she smiled before turning back the other way. She was certain the only reason she noticed the difference in the way the gown hung was because she knew how it had looked to begin with, and she picked up her shoes before leaving the dressing closet and going into the bedroom.

Dinner tonight was important for more than one reason. First, it was Uncle Luke's first meal in the dining room since her and Ben's return from Milan, he'd been declared fully recovered from his bout with pneumonia a week ago and two days ago, was told he could resume his regular routine. Second, the Minister of Education and his wife were coming to join them, the first of several steps in reopening Jedha. She had gone over the menu with Maz, double checked with Mrs Sowerby, and while Ben had told her over and over things didn't need to be perfect, she couldn't help herself but worrying about the possibility of some sort of minor disaster, from a burnt cake to serving something their guests didn't care for. 

She finished putting on her shoes as she heard Ben knock once before opening the door. “You know, you do live here, and it's not as if you haven't seen me in all forms of dress and undress.”

“Habit, I suppose.” He came over and kissed her cheek, then smoothed down a small wrinkle in her skirt. “I always did like this frock.” He smiled, stepping back and taking her hands in both of his, looking her over. “Still as beautiful as the first time I saw you.” He let go and went into the bathroom. “Damn formal meals, I despise having to get dressed up for the sole purpose of eating.”

“You seem to be under the impression I enjoy it any better than you do.” She took a breath, leaning against his chair, looking through the doorway towards him. “We should be thankful it's only the head of the education department and his wife, and not the Prime Minister.” She frowned. “Or, God forbid, the King.” 

“I don't think his majesty would take the time to come out here. More likely send one of his sons, or one of his siblings.” He started to run water in the sink, cutting off conversation.

Rey watched him for a moment before going back to the dressing closet and opening up her jewel case. She could never match anything within with the correct occasion; and she wasn't one for gussying up her outfits anyway as she picked up a simple bracelet and the water turned off and Ben cursed softly. “Did you nick yourself shaving?”

“Yes, damn it.” There was a fumbling noise and she came to the doorway and he hissed in pain. “I'll be fine, I'm annoyed with myself, nothing more.” He set down his razor and she came over to him, glancing at the bright red cut on the tip of his chin. “What?”

“Hold still.” She held up her fingers near his face and concentrated, her eyes narrowing as she summoned the Force and the wound slowly healed. When she was done, she saw the look of admiration in his eyes, and she grinned, kissing the spot she had mended. “I've been studying.” 

“I know you have, but you must remember to not overtax yourself.” He brushed a finger against her cheek before leaving the bath, “and I know you, Reyes, you're the sort of student who needs to be reminded.” he went into the dressing room. “Bloody white tie dinners.” He coughed. “I can't imagine my uncle and Finn are having much luck either. How ruddy annoying it must be, finally getting a clean bill of health and your first meal downstairs in almost three months is formal.” 

She went to sit in her chair, focusing on her wrist as she put the bracelet on, absently thinking of the last time she'd worn it; on her first dinner here at Jedha. Her father had given it to her mother when Rey was born, a braid of silver and gold, with a single pearl in the center. “I still have no idea what kind of conversation I'm supposed to have with the minister's wife after dinner. I feel out of my element.” 

Ben came out of the other room, adjusting his cufflinks. “The school reopening will be enough of a subject alone. Although you know how the conversations go at these dinners.”

Rey stood up. “Don't remind me.” She managed a smile. “I'm going to go down. Make sure everything is in order.” She smoothed her skirt. “All the proper lady of the house duties, and other such nonsense.”

He came over and kissed her cheek. “I'll be down shortly. Careful in those heels on the stairs.” 

“I will.” She went over to the door. “I know what a bannister is for.” She laughed and ducked out of the room, heading down the hallway and the stairs. She was on the second floor landing when the doorbell echoed loudly and she steeled herself up, finishing her descent to the bottom as Mr. Daniels went to the the door and opened it. Keeping herself perfectly calm, she kept her free hand steady as she heard footsteps come into the hallway and caught sight of a pale man with red hair, and next to him was a tall woman with white-blonde hair, and in an instant she almost ran back upstairs, feeling woefully under-dressed for the occasion. 

_Calm down, Sweetheart._

Ben's voice graced through her mind and she lifted her chin as she came down to the foyer, where their dinner guests were handing their wraps to one of the footmen. 

“Minister Hux.” Uncle Luke came out of the drawing room, looking fully recovered and far too jovial for this event. “Mrs. Hux.” He stated and the two turned to him, their backs to Rey.

“Professor Skywalker.” The man said. “It's good to see you again.” She missed part of the interaction and came around towards the small party when the minister caught sight of her; he was older than Ben was by a few years, his wife looked close to the same age.

Uncle Luke cleared his throat. “Minister, Mrs. Hux, allow me to introduce my niece, Reyes Organa.” 

She instantly pulled her standard smile she had used for months while working for Mrs. Antilles, but before she could find her voice, the man found his.

“Mrs Organa.” He held out his hand and she took it,and he gave it more of a squeeze than a shake. “And here I was under the impression Benjamin would never marry.” 

“Taj, be nice.” the woman said out of the side of her mouth before turning to her. “Gwendoline Hux.” She held out her hand and gave Rey a far firmer handshake than her husband. “So nice to meet you.” She smiled brightly and the four of them crossed into the drawing room across from the dining room. “Have you and your husband been at Jedha long?”

“Since the end of May.” She replied, maintaining her smile. “We left before it became too hot in Italy.” 

“Yes, Italy and Monaco can be wretched in the summer.” she shook her head. “Though nothing like Spain, have you ever been there?” 

Rey cleared her throat. “Yes, but not since before the war, I'm afraid. My father's family is from Barcelona.” 

Something changed in the woman's face, and she caught a flash of shock before Gwendoline's smile slid back into place. “Yes, I think I remember reading about it in the letter your uncle-in-law wrote.” The two of them had a seat on one of the couches, while the two men talked on the other side of the room. “Your maiden name is Andor?” 

“Yes.” She saw the woman's eyes flicker towards the door and then back at her. “Is something amiss?” 

The woman shook her head, waving her hand. “Don't mind me.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I'm too used to listening for my children coming down to see whom their father and I have as guests. Simple child's curiosity, and while the nannies do try to keep them upstairs during such times, they're too clever to remain shut away for long.” She shook her head. “I suppose it must be hard for them. One night, they're allowed to have dinner with their parents, the next, it's dinner upstairs, out of sight, and enforced silence.”

Rey pressed a finger to her lips, biting back a laugh. “I wouldn't be surprised if they are currently testing the stairs at home right now, so they can remember which ones make noise and which ones do not.” The door of the drawing room opened, and Ben and Finn came into the room together, and she felt her whole body relax. 

*

Formal dinners were strange. 

There was no other way to describe meals of this sort in Finn's mind. They weren't in the usual dining room, but in the smaller one Professor Skywalker jokingly referred to as the 'Council Chamber' owing to the table which could sit no more than ten. It was oval, unlike the long rectangle in the other room, giving it neither true head or foot, and he sat on the same side as Minister Hux, with Rey between them, relieved it was a small party. The plates were sent up already prepared, sparing the trouble of taking food off of a serving tray, which he loathed. There was no logic to it. He'd much rather have all the food set on the table itself and they all helped themselves, much like the toast was at breakfast. It was how both he and Rey had grown up eating at home, it was how dinner was usually done here, although sometimes things were set up on the sideboard. For all their lessons on etiquette and protocol, the British upper-class had no idea how to pass a dish, or even a wine bottle.

But this was a _formal_ meal, and such things simply weren't done. It seemed devoid of logic; but as Rey was fond of saying, trying to bring logic into things was simply asking for trouble. 

He glanced across the table at Ben, who appeared about as thrilled as he was to be here. Things had to be done a certain way, and he was currently focused solely on Rey, who was talking with the minister about Monaco, and he caught a snippet of something about the roads over on the Continent. Even though infrastructure wasn't exactly a concern of the man, he no doubt had fellow employees which would rather have an honest report, rather than one which omitted minor details which could be considered unimportant, but really wasn't. He shifted in his chair and caught a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, and saw Mrs. Hux was now talking to Ben, instead of Professor Skywalker.

“You need to eat your vegetables, Finn.” Rey's voice was soft next to him and he turned slightly so he could speak with her.

“You sound like my gran.” He murmured, slicing his squash into smaller bits. “This whole method of conversation is silly. Although this smaller table does have advantages. Why don't we eat in here all the time?” 

“Matter of form.” She answered, spearing a slice of beef on her plate and cutting it in half. “I meant to ask you at lunch, are you finished with _Nineteenth Century Ciphers_? I can't progress on my book list until I read it.” 

“Halfway done.” He shook his head, doing his best to get the vegetables on his fork in the 'proper' method. “I'd have finished weeks ago if Dooku didn't go off into tangents constantly. It's like reading a recipe book where the author feels compelled to tell you the origins of their favorite apple orchard before giving you instructions on how to make a pie.” He ate his forkful of vegetables.

“I wouldn't be surprised if Dooku was like Dickens and got paid for each word.” She shook her head and picked up her water glass. “Are they at least somewhat interesting, like Kenobi's annotations?” She took a drink.

“Those annotations are entirely different. Such as having to explain Tudor mindsets, which is all types of insanity.” He stabbed his own cut of meat. “It's nothing short of a miracle the Order survived the War of the Roses.”

“I think it was more of a matter of the Order keeping their heads down and refusing to take sides. They were having a bit of an expansion period, learning the methods of the Force-sensitive indigenous peoples of the Americas.” She set her glass down and picked her fork up. “Explains how Tano was able to set up her school with ease.” 

“Tano's talents were wasted here at Jedha. Anakin Skywalker knew it, may have hurt like hell, having his padawan up and leave the school and start her own. Then again, being falsely accused of a crime would sour anyone's respect for the organization you had devoted your life to.” He ate a few bites of his meat. “But as he always states in his papers on the matter, there was no one more qualified to open the school in Canada. It was a hunting lodge before, wasn't it?”

“Franciscan Mission, actually. The monks all went to a university in the States to teach.” Rey stiffened as Professor Skywalker cleared his throat and she turned away from him, her focus back on her food.

For his part, Finn tried to get another forkful of vegetables by pushing them onto the utensil with his knife, instead of stabbing them with the fork itself, which made far more sense. He glanced over at Ben, who had picked up his red wine glass, his face unreadable. 

_“I'll keep my temper if you will.”_ The other man's voice graced along his mind as he took a sip of wine.

 _“Worst he can do is say no. Besides, there's an election next year.”_ He replied, and ate a few pieces of squash. He saw the corner of Ben's mouth twitch upward. _“What?”_

 _“You're improving at this. Your mouth no longer moves.”_ He set his wine glass down, and in reply, Finn picked up his water glass.

“You'll have to forgive me, Minister, in the past, one did not discuss business until after dinner, but you know as well as I do times have changed a great deal.” Professor Skywalker maintained his grip on his fork, and Finn saw Rey take her own in her hand, keeping her eyes on her plate.

“Indeed, professor.” He saw Hux sit back slightly. “It's been nearly ten years since Jedha closed its doors,” he glanced down their side of the table. “with two exceptions, I suppose.” 

“The Influenza after the war sent many things into confusion.” Ben stated, sounding far calmer than Finn felt. “It wasn't just a matter of a lack of students, but lack of professors as well.” 

“It seems you still don't have the teachers to open, if you'll forgive me for saying. You need three.” Hux picked up his white wine glass. “Although I suspect Mrs Organa and Mr. Stover are capable of teaching things outside the realm of the Force.” He took a drink before continuing. “If they are the oldest possible students here, do you have a general idea of how old the next oldest would be?”

“Six or seven, no older.” Professor Skywalker answered, his face still the picture of calm. “While most children do not attend boarding schools until they are ten, there are exceptions.” 

“Do you honestly believe parents would be willing to send their seven year old child to a school halfway across the country?” He shook his head. “Unlikely.” 

“We were thinking of expanding beyond the boarders of the United Kingdom. There are no schools for the Force-sensitive left in Europe, and while there are schools in both China and Japan, you know as well as I do, no parents in the west would send their child to either.” The professor took a deep breath. “As for teachers, Professor Îmwe from the Imperial School in Beijing has already stated he would be willing to take up a position here at Jedha.”

Hux took another breath. “People here in Britain will have _issues_ with him being here, Professor.” 

“The world is getting smaller, Minister.” Rey intoned. “We're also at a point where we can't be selective.” 

“Armitage, if this Professor Îmwe comes to England, Jedha will have three qualified teachers of the main source material.” Mrs. Phasma declared, then looked across the table at him and Rey. “And what would you teach here at Jedha, Mr. Stover?” 

Finn set his fork down, then dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. “Geography and basic engineering. Once being taught how to care for a horse was common, I believe the same should be done for automobiles. Also knowing how to do simple repairs around a home would be useful.” He inwardly winced, knowing the answer wasn't entirely impressive. “Arithmetic as well.” 

“Hm.” She glanced over at Rey. “And yourself, Mrs Organa?”

“Grammar, Literature and Languages.” There was a slight edge to her voice, and he saw her flinch, and the grip on her fork tightened. A tiny flutter in the Force told him Ben had noticed as well and said something to her. “Did you know, once you learn two languages within a certain set, picking up a third or even a fourth is quite simple?”

“I did.” She smiled in reply, a little more sincere. “What languages do you speak?” Mrs. Phasma started cutting her meat. “Afraid I only speak French, in addition to English.” 

“English, Spanish, French, Latin and Dutch. Currently learning German and Romanian.” Her tone shifted to a rather light one. “Though Latin is, sadly, fading from use.” 

“One needs it for science.” Hux interjected. “And I do realize it will take you some time to get the school back to anything like it was before the War.” He cleared his throat. “And if you'll forgive me for saying, but it is almost certain neither you nor this Professor Îmwe will live to see the day, Professor Skywalker.” 

To his credit, the man's smile remained firmly in place. “By the time Jedha has returned to a fourth of what it was before the War, both Finn and Reyes will be fully qualified to be teachers of the Force, in addition to the subjects they are already slated to teach.” 

*

The little wooden airplane flew in uneven circles around the small room, sometimes fluctuating near the floor, threatening to crash into the wall, the floor, or even into the one holding it aloft, her arm growing weary as the toy completed its tenth circuit. Her stomach rumbled, and the small girl slowly lowered her arm, the plane falling upside down on her pallet. Rather than risk it shooting across the room, Rose Tico reached forward from her seat on the floor and pulled her meal tray towards her, picking up the bowl of rice and vegetables in one hand, her chopsticks in the other. 

She was in seclusion, _again_ , because as Professor Chen had reminded her, she needed to learn to keep _silent_. It was strange, she didn't have problem holding her tongue when she had lived with her parents, but somehow, being here – in the city, at the Imperial Force School, it was something akin to freedom. She ate a few bites of her lunch, knowing she was expected to show progress at her next class. While she knew she should have eaten her meal when she first returned, she'd set the tray down, and then, with a simple wave of her hand, had closed the door of her room. 

The jolt of the Force had distracted her from eating and she'd set to work again, too excited to let a little thing like _eating_ get in the way of her practice.

She was nearly half finished with her meal when there was a knock on her door, and then, in typical fashion, was opened before she could say a word. 

“Professor Chen wants to see you, Padawan Tico. He's in his office.” The older student, a boy whose name she couldn't remember, looked annoyed. 

She nodded and picked up her tray, intending to return it to the kitchen when the boy took it from her, still grimacing. She caught his emotion and the reason with ease. He was angry for having to come and get her. His friends were outside playing ball and he was left being an errand boy. “Thank you.” 

“Get.” He hissed and pointed down the corridor. “Don't keep Professor Chen waiting, salt mouse.” 

Rose nodded and went out into the hall, heading towards the far end, and behind her, she heard the door slam and the boy go in the opposite direction, towards the stairs leading to the kitchen and courtyard. Salt-mouse wasn't quite the insult he probably thought it was. Not to her. Her father wasn't a miner, but owned quite the respectable tea plantation, and had relinquished her to the school without hesitation. It was, as he put it, one less dowry.

Even though she was only thirteen, she already knew she _never_ wanted to get married.

She'd no sooner arrived here three years ago then she was taken to the healing wing and had her feet freed from their bindings, and Force be praised, she still could remember how _wonderful_ it had felt to stretch out her toes. She clasped her hands in front of her, doing her best to not run. Why Professor Chen had sent another padawan and not simply called her via the Force, she didn't know. She didn't expect an explanation either.

The corridor where the professor's offices were located always made Rose feel uncomfortable. She never could quite figure out why, maybe it was the weight of the knowledge of the Masters. She glanced down her front to make sure she hadn't gotten any of her meal on herself before she reached up and knocked on Professor Chen's door. 

“Enter!” the man barked, and Rose slid the door open, bowing slightly when she came in. “Padawan Tico.” 

“Yes, sir.” She closed the door and then noticed they weren't alone. Professor Îmwe was sitting in a chair in front of the desk, perfectly calm and content, the exact opposite of Professor Chen. “I came as quickly as I...”

“I haven't asked you a question, Padawan.” He shook his head, glancing down at some papers on his desk. She wasn't close enough to make out what they were. “Master Skywalker has decided to reopen Jedha. Where is his school located, Padawan Tico?”

“Central England, Professor.” She straightened her shoulders, biting her bottom lip to keep herself from speaking again. 

“Professor Îmwe is going to be joining the staff.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other man smile, and she clamped her teeth down harder, steeling herself against the urge to speak. The Imperial School _would_ try and find a way to send the most patient and kindest instructor elsewhere.

“Since you are, by far, the most proficient student of English in this school, you will be going with him. Both as his guide and to be a student.” Professor Chen appeared delighted to give her the news. “After we are finished here, you will return to your room and see to your packing. I expect you to be ready to leave before the end of the week.” 

_England? But that's so far away!_ “Yes, sir.” She whispered, knowing full well the man could read her every thought as if they were the papers on his desk.

“All is as the Force wills it.” Professor Îmwe intoned, his smile widening, those blank blue eyes seemed to shine. “All will be well, Padawan Tico, you must simply trust the Force.” 

“Yes, professor.” She inclined her head. “When...”

“The two of you will never return to China.” Professor Chen's voice was icy. “One day, Padawan, you will take Professor Îmwe's place as a professor. Do you understand?” 

“Yes,” her voice cracked, “professor.” 

“Come now, Padawan Tico, there is no need to be upset.” He smiled. “The Western World is not so bad. Yes, it is far away, but you know, just like every student and professor in this school, shadows are rising in the east. Within this very country things are turning dark. I may not entirely approve of your behavior at times, if I can send any goodness of our country out into the Force for the benefit of all mankind, so be it.” Professor Chen's smile slowly faded. “Hurry along now, young lady. You may be headed to England come Saturday, but you are required to finish all your current assignments for your classes.” 

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak as Professor Îmwe lifted his hand and the door slid open. 

“All will be well, child. Do not fear.” the blind man intoned and she bowed again, before going out into the corridor. No sooner did the door shut than she ran full tilt back the way she came. By the time she reached her cell, she was red faced, gasping for breath. 

She fell onto her pallet, pushing the wooden plane aside, and wept. 

*

Thunder woke Ben up. For a few minutes, he laid in the bed, trying to keep his breathing even as the storm raged outside, counting the seconds between the lightning and the noise, but coupled with the driving rain and the screaming wind, it did little good. He stiffened when he felt Rey's hand on his back, and swallowed when she moved so she was pressed against him, her arm over him, holding him to her. “You should be asleep.”

“So should you.” She answered, her grip tightening when a flash lit up the room, followed almost instantly by thunder. “Do you want me to go close the drapes?”

“No.” He rolled over to face her, his fingers settling against her cheek. “I need to work through this fear.” He closed his eyes, willing the sight of the trenches from his mind, even as they threatened to overtake him. “I can't...” He was cut off as Rey pressed her lips to his, kissing him deeply, and he moved his arm over her waist, holding onto her as their tongues brushed against each other, and she pulled away to take his bottom lip in both of hers, nipping it slightly before letting go, her eyes bright. “What are you up to?” 

“Distracting you.” she pressed her forehead to his, her breath quick. “To fill your mind with something other than the storm and the memories it brings.” Her Force-signature reached out to hold his own, seeking to soothe and comfort, and he eased into the connection, letting it wash over him, wanting to drown in it.

“Little vixen is what you are.” He chuckled, pulling her over him and kissing the tip of her nose, his cock twitching in interest, the storm starting to fade from his notice. “Though I'm not objecting to your methods.” He slid a hand into her hair and kissed her again, his other hand sliding under her pajama top to rest on her back. They had not been intimate with each other for several weeks; it seemed Rey's body had only waited until she had settled into life here before it started throwing side-effects of pregnancy at her. He pulled away, though he was loathed to break contact for long. “You're okay with this?” He slid his hand down her front, lingering over the the ties of her top.

Rey nodded. “No rushing, I'll be good.” She leaned over to run her tongue along his ear, nipping at the lobe. “It's been a while.” _If six weeks can be considered 'a while'._

“One might argue that's too long, Darling.” He undid the front of her pajama top and she moved her arms so he could remove the garment from her, dropping it onto the floor and setting her back against the pillows, running his hand along her side, taking in the changes in her body. “I think you have a few more freckles.” He rested his head on one hand, and slid the other along her collarbone, smiling. “I don't remember this one.” He leaned over and kissed a small spot near the top of her left breast. “Or this one either.” He trailed his tongue down until he came to the second one, less than an inch from the first, and closed his lips around the skin, sucking at it slowly. “Maybe I'm imagining it.” He ran his nose along her sternum, breathing deeply. 

“Maybe.” She answered, her fingers running through his hair, tugging it slightly. “anything else different?” 

“Hmm.” He rubbed his cheek against her skin, cupping her left breast in his hand, were once it had fit perfectly into his hand, it now had more heft, and now spilled out slightly. “I believe you're getting curves, Darling.” He kissed the side of her breast, smiling. “Or rather, should I say, more pronounced ones.” He moved to rest his head against a pillow, keeping his eyes on hers as his hand moved lower, his fingers tracing the slight roundness of her belly, one which would only grow as the weeks went by. 

Rey let out a slight chuckle. “that tickles.” She pressed her face against her pillow. “And you're teasing me.” 

“You like it when I tease you when we're alone.” He kissed her forehead, sitting up enough to unbutton and remove his own pajama top and dropped it next to hers. “This should be better.” He slid one of his arms under hers and pulled her close to him, the skin-on-skin contact chasing away any of the last traces of his nightmares. 

“And you like my ways of distracting you.” She murmured against his ear, nuzzling his neck. “Don't you?”

Ben chuckled, kissing her chin. “Like is nowhere near to describe how I feel when we're together like this.” He let his lips travel down her neck. “Such comfort I've found in your arms.” He pressed a kiss to the hollow her throat. “Chasing away every nightmare that could ever haunt me.” He breathed against her skin, and her arms came around his shoulders, holding him against her chest. “Am I talking too much?”

Rey let out a long breath, her fingers carding through his hair. “No, love. You're not.” Under his ear, he could hear the even thumping of her heartbeat, the wonderful, comforting sound he could remember listening to on their wedding night, and he knew, without even focusing, both hers and his hearts beat together in perfect sync, a rhythm they had created without even trying. 

He pressed a kiss against her breast, his lips slowly making a path to her nipple, and, once he reached it, closed his mouth around the stiff peak, sucking at it gently, his tongue flicking over the surface, and he closed his eyes as he heard her hiss, the fingers in his hair tightening as his hand reached over and started to pluck her other nipple.

“Ben.” She arched upward towards his touch, and he slid his hands down her sides, looping under the waistband of her pajamas and tugged them free from her hips, quickly divesting of her of the garment, his mouth never leaving her breast as he removed his own, pulling reluctantly away from her to send both pairs of pants to the floor, before settling between her legs. 

He kissed her forehead, smoothing stray curls from her face as she opened her eyes, and gave him a somewhat dreamy smile. “If I didn't know better, I'd think you were drunk.” 

She grinned. “I was a good girl and only had two half-glasses of wine.” she wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he nestled his legs between hers, the head of his cock nudging against her entrance. “I don't think I've ever been drunk, except off your kisses.” 

“Hm, I wonder how many kisses it takes to get you there.” He tugged at her bottom lip with his teeth, smiling, “we'll have to count sometime.” He thrust his cock into her waiting quim, covering her cry with a kiss, her body trembling beneath him. _I'm not hurting you, am I?_

 _No, love._ Her voice was breathy in his mind, her arms tightening around him. It's been a while, nothing more. She broke the kiss, her eyes searching his. “Ben.” She whispered before pulling him back into another kiss. 

He smiled against her mouth and slowly rocked his hips against hers, pulling his cock out slightly before thrusting back inside, her quim adjusting to the intrusion. 

Outside, the storm raged on, unnoticed by either of them.

*

The dinner had accomplished exactly what Luke wanted. It was a bit of a relief the minister hadn't asked how the Jedi found students in the past. In theory, it wouldn't be a matter of _finding_ the students, but rather _waiting_ for the students to reach school age. Thankfully, even though some people did not show their sensitivity until later years, they could still learn theory and history, before they developed their actual powers. Most parents didn't begrudge their children an education, he knew. They were reopening Jedha, not restarting the Jedi Order. 

The time for the Jedi, as he had known them, were over. Over when the War came, they couldn't be what they once were. 

He had received a telegram from China last night, informing him that Professor Îmwe would leave for Hong Kong before the end of the week, the first leg in the long journey to England. Traveling with him was a young student from the school in Beijing, both as the man's traveling companion, and to continue her education in the Force. 

Miss Tico put the new class at three, even if she was seven years Rey and Finn's junior. 

When he entered the dining room for breakfast, the only one already there was Ben, who was frowning at a letter he was reading. “Good morning.” He didn't look up at him, only took another drink of tea.

“Morning, sourpuss.” He replied, going to the sideboard, filling his plate with a stewed tomato, a fried egg and a few rashers of bacon. 

“Tea or coffee, this morning, Professor?” Mr. Daniels asked, clearly unaffected by the exchange. Typical, reliable Mr. Daniels.

“Tea, please.” He answered before taking his seat. “Something wrong?”

“Invitation to a masquerade party over at Manderly.” Ben set the paper down, and took another drink of tea. “Seems De Winter remarried.” 

“I don't like the socialization anymore than you do.” He cut his tomato in half. “Or is it dressing up in masks you despise?”

“Both.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What on earth was the racket last night after the Minister and his wife left?” 

“Telegram from Beijing. Professor Îmwe will leave for England by the end of the week.” He cut his tomato into fourths. “Twelve days to get here, at the earliest. It will more likely be fifteen, accounting for the weather.” 

His nephew grimaced. “Bus, train, boat – it's going to be a grand day when aviation allows for regular travel from point A to point B.” He rubbed his temple. “Then again, there still hasn't been a trans-Pacific flight. I give it another year.”

“Aviation for anything outside the military is a long way off.” He shook his head. “Still, it's a far shorter trip now than when I was your age.” 

Ben snorted. “Mankind still riding dinosaurs, right?”

“Very funny, sourpuss.” He speared a tomato quarter on his fork. “Although I think you tend to forget your mother and I are the exact same age.” He nearly dropped the utensil when the shock-wave of his nephew's emotions lashed out across the table. “I didn't mean...”

“Mom's been dead for almost twenty years.” He drained the last of his tea and wiped his mouth. “I'm going to go for a walk. When Rey comes down, tell her I'll be back before noon.” He stood, dropping his napkin in his chair before he stalked out of the room, and a minute later, he heard the fumbling of the front door locks being thrown back, and the dishes on the table and sideboard shook when the door slammed behind him.

Luke covered his eyes, rubbing them slowly. They so rarely discussed Ben's parents, not even after the wretched cholera outbreak, it was hard to even bring the subject up casually. Han and Leia Organa-Solo were definitely among the elephants in the room. He heard the sound of footsteps in the hallway and he straightened up as he recognized Rey's signature. He managed a smile as she came into the dining room and he stood. “Morning.” 

“Morning.” She frowned. “Where's Ben?”

“He needed some fresh air.” He wasn't going to bring the subject of Ben's parents up with her this early in the morning. “I imagine he'll end up at the estate office before the morning is out, and be back in time for luncheon.” 

“Oh.” She went over to the sideboard and helped herself to breakfast. “Tea, please, Mr. Daniels.” 

“Of course, madam.” He answered and a moment later, she sat down with a bowl of porridge and a plate of fruit.

“Are you feeling unwell?” Luke frowned at the contents of her meal as he sat back down.

“I'm perfectly well.” She gave him a wan smile. “I'm simply not trusting my stomach with anything too heavy this morning.”

He took a drink of tea. “Did you see Finn on your way down?”

“I think he stayed up late reading last night, so he most likely fell asleep with his face in a book.” She smiled absently. “Was a telegram delivered last night? I heard someone ring the front bell after Ben and I went upstairs.” She spooned some jam into her porridge.

“Yes, it looks like our professor from China is going to be heading for England by the end of the week.” He stabbed at his tomato. “Which reminds me, I'm going to need you to speak to Maz about rooms. One for the professor, the second for the student traveling with him.” He took a breath. “Chirrut Îmwe is blind. Childhood illness, I believe. Details don't really matter. One of the students from the school will accompany him here to Jedha, and then remain to be a scholar here with you and Finn.” 

“Does this student have a name?” She smirked over her spoon. “Or do they just go by Padawan?”

He chuckled as she ate her breakfast. “Her name is Rose Tico. I believe she's around thirteen or fourteen years, I know, there's quite a difference in the ages.” 

She shrugged. “We'll show her the library to start off, goodness knows I'd stay there all day long if I could myself.” She paused. “Although I can't blame her if she's unhappy when she arrives. Come a great distance, leave the only home you've ever known. Whole new culture.” She frowned. “I'll also speak with Mrs. Sowerby. See if we can integrate some cuisine the Professor and Miss Tico are accustomed to into the menus.” 

He smiled and speared another quarter of his tomato. “I'm certain they would appreciate it.” Luke let out a breath. “How's your reading coming along?” He bit into the tomato, his focus more on his plate than her.

“Stuck until Finn finishes _Nineteenth Century Ciphers._ ” She cleared her throat. “Maybe you can tell me, the two of us were wondering – was Dooku paid by the word?” 

He grabbed his napkin and pressed it against his mouth as he choked down the mouthful of food. 

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean...” Rey's eyes widened and she started to stand.

“No, please sit.” He took a drink of tea, calming himself. “I know what you're talking about, and no, I don't know if he was paid by the word, but I would not be surprised. He bequeathed Master Kenobi a well-worn thesaurus upon his death. According to him, the book in question fell apart less than a year later.” 

Rey speared a slice of melon on her fork. “Fell apart of its own accord or met with an unfortunate accident that caused it to crumble?”

He set his cup down, chuckling. “I don't know. Possibly both.” Luke shook his head. “I never met the man, Dooku died shortly before I was born.” He watched her eat for a few moments before turning his attention to his own meal. “Starting over is never easy. But I suppose the one good thing in all this, is knowing what has worked in the past and what didn't.” 

“A long road lies ahead, for all of us.” she ate a few spoonfuls of porridge. “Who knows, Finn and I may find ourselves playing catch-up to Rose in terms of learning.” 

“You might.” He saw her glance over at the stack of letters Ben had left behind and frown, picking up the one on top, scanning it. “Is that the invitation to a dress-ball over at Manderly?”

“Yes.” She worried her bottom lip. “Ben wouldn't enjoy this sort of event.” she set it down. “Or is this some wretched thing we have to attend in order to maintain appearances?” 

Luke shook his head. “It's not exactly required, since we're invited out of form. Maxim's father attended school with Bail Organa. However, Manderly is – not a nice place in terms of the Force.”

She thought for a moment. “Not nice in a Tower of London way or something else?”

“Not as bad as the Tower of London.” He cut into his fried egg. “I suggest declining politely. The three hour drive to the Cornish coast is enough of a reason alone.” 

“Three hours there mean three hours back, after a night of dancing and society. I can think of far better ways to spend twelve hours.” She shook her head. “It seems a wretched extravagance.” 

“Mr. De Winter will not care if anyone from Jedha attends or not.” He shook his head. “Lord knows, the poor man was probably badgered into hosting the bloody thing.” He saw her look over at him. “Not to mention many of society tends to think people who are Force-sensitive are on par with street magicians and should perform parlor tricks like a trained animal.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has no beta. Any mistakes are my own.

The problem with reading recipe books, Rey decided, was they made you hungry. Fortunately, they didn't have photographs of how the completed dish would or was supposed to look, or she would definitely not get through a more than a few pages. While the food presented seemed to be straightforward, methods within were confusing. She supposed it was due to the Chinese using oil, rather than butter, to cook with. There was also the matter of ingredients. She nudged the book across the table away from her, and picked up a sandwich half. 

Even though it was quarter past four, no one had shown up in the drawing room for tea, save for her. She'd checked her watch and the clock in the hall for the time, and even triple checked it with Mr. Daniels. There hadn't been any mention from Ben, Uncle Luke, or Finn at luncheon they had something to do at tea-time. The whole mood at lunch had been tense, something passing between nephew and uncle she had picked up on, but knew better than to ask. She took a bite of her sandwich, the tomato tart in her mouth. 

The door of the door of the drawing room opened and she bolted upright as Finn came inside, his jacket askew. “Apologies for...” He stopped short, looking around the room, confused. “Professor Skywalker and Ben aren't here either?”

She shook her head, managing to swallow her mouthful of food. “I was wondering where everyone was myself.” 

He went over to the tea table, fixing himself a cup. “You chase Mr. Daniels out of here?”

“I did. I told him we're all perfectly capable of serving ourselves at teatime. Goodness knows, we more or less do it at breakfast.” She resumed her seat. “Not to mention you and I grew up without servants in the household.” 

“Gran puts everything on your plate and puts it in front of you to start out. Well, she did until I told her to sit down and I put the food on the plates.” He gave her a sheepish smile and came over to join her. “Gran now lives with Aunt Celia.” He sighed. “I should write to them, let them know how I'm doing.” 

“I thought you wrote her every week.” She took another bite of sandwich.

“I try, but I sometimes feel I'll keep saying the same things. Read more books, yes I'm eating my vegetables, remembering my manners...” He swallowed. “It's not like I can tell them...” 

“About you and Mr. Dameron?” She set her sandwich down, glancing over at Finn as his expression changed; exuding embarrassment. “I'm sorry, I...” She stuttered.

“No, no it's okay.” He took a breath. “And you're right, I can't tell them about myself and Poe. Probably come up here and haul me off to a mental hospital by my ear if I did.” 

Rey managed a smile. “Knowing Poe, he'd most likely find a way to break you out.” She picked up her teacup. “You could try and mind-trick the doctors and aides to get yourself out. Then Poe would simply have to drive you out of there.” 

He chuckled. “Poe would do something crazy like that, wouldn't he?”

“Although I think we're forgetting your gran first has to come and fetch you. There's plenty of stairs and places to hide in here at Jedha.” She grinned at him. “If she arrives, I'll simply ask her to have a nice cup of tea before she begins her search. She would certainly need some refreshment after the long trip.” 

His jaw fell slightly. “You're not going to poison my gran, are you Mrs. Organa?” 

She scoffed. “Mr. Stover, have more faith in me. I'd merely convince her nothing is wrong with your behavior, and then invite Mr. Dameron to dinner so he can prove himself honorable and worthy of her beloved grandson's affections.” Finn covered his mouth to prevent from spitting his tea out, and she shook her head. “Manners, Mr. Stover.” she admonished, smiling.

He took a napkin and wiped at his mouth and hand. “You're too much, you know that Reyes?” 

She lifted her chin, giving him her best affronted expression. “Are you questioning my sincerity?” Her lips broke into a wide smile. “Can you find me a person in the whole of the country, if not the Empire, whom Poe Dameron cannot charm?” 

“Point taken.” He cleaned off the side of the side of his cup. “Until he met you, Poe was the only person who could make Ben at least crack a smile.” He went back over to the tea table to get a plate and put a slice of yellow cake on it, along with a scone. “Do you have any idea why things at luncheon were so tense?”

She shook her head. “I didn't want to pry, so I left it alone.” She glanced back at the book in front of her. “I was looking through this and I don't think Jedha has the right sort of stoves and pans for half of it.” Rey let out a sigh. “Maybe Mrs. Sowerby can find a way to modify them.” 

He pulled the book towards him and glanced down at the pages, flipping through it. “Seems mostly to be duck dishes.” His face twisted into a grimace. “Chicken feet? I don't think I've ever been so hungry I'd want to eat chicken _feet_.” 

“Waste not, want not, I suppose.” She picked up her second sandwich as the door opened and Ben came into the room, perfectly neat, except for his hair. “Did you get into a fight with a bird?” 

“No.” He came over to the tea-table, fixing himself a cup and setting a sandwich half and a scone on a plate. “A few low branches, and I was more intent on making sure the leaves and twigs were out than it being neat.” Ben managed a smile. “What were you two discussing before I came in?”

“Chicken feet.” Finn answered before she could, and he reached over and closed the book. “You and Mrs. Sowerby have plenty of time to discuss menu changes.” 

“I know.” She finished her sandwich half as Ben sat down next to her. “You weren't climbing the trees, were you?”

“I was checking the orchards, if you must know, and I lost track of time.” He brushed his knuckles down her arm. _We'll talk about it later._

_Understood._ She picked up her cup. “You say there's plenty of time, Finn, but you know as well as I do how quickly time can pass.” 

“True.” He glanced over at Ben. “Is it true when you first came to Jedha, they used to set the pepper grinder in front of your place at luncheon and dinner?”

Ben chuckled. “The cook we had at the time, Mrs Ashland, wasn't exactly fond of seasoning. Since I'd come from India were the only remotely mild thing is the puddings, I wasn't used to such – bland food.” He set his cup down and cut the scone in half with a fork. 

Rey frowned, a thought occurring to her. “Do you think Professor Îmwe and Padawan Tico are vegetarians?”

“Unlikely. In the East, the study of the Force is a religion unto itself.” Ben stated. “While it borrows heavily from the Buddhist and Hindu faiths, Jai, as it is called, many of the tenants, particularly those of restrictions on diet, are not present.” He shrugged. “Killing something for the sake of killing is forbidden.” 

“Meaning?” Finn inquired, cutting his cake with a fork.

“If they come across a bug indoors, they capture it and put it outside.” He speared a chunk of scone on his fork. “Which is why the schools of Asia tend to have cats residing within their walls. To take care of the mice and other pests.” 

Rey pulled the cookery book back towards her and set it on the pile she had brought from the library. “I'll still talk with Mrs. Sowerby. See if we can manage a few simple things for when they arrive.” 

“I know we learned they were coming last night, and while it'll take them at least half a month to get here, they'll be here before we know it.” Finn remarked before biting into his scone.

*

The room's one window was too high for Rose to see out of, not unless she grasped the frame with her hands and hauled herself up the wall. It required careful maneuvering, as it was almost certain the cover would come and strike her on the back of the head of she wasn't careful in setting the latch. The little rooms where all the students lived were all the same, eight feet by eight feet, with a pallet on one side of the room and a row of hooks along the other, for hanging clothes. A small dresser which doubled as a desk held other clothing articles and what few personal effects a student had to call their own. 

Late last night, the carpetbag she carried into the school three years ago was returned to her. The only reason she knew it was hers and not another random bag were the bright red swirls she remembered tracing all during the trip to Beijing, feeling not so much the importance of where she was going, but where the bag had come from. It had carried part of Mother's trousseau when she married Father. Everything she was sent to the Imperial School with fit into this bag, and everything she had now would do the same. She had to wonder if her parents had been informed of her leaving the country, or if it was completely brushed aside, the details unimportant. She hadn't seen anyone in her family since she came here, her last contact with any of them had been from her aunt, who wrote about her eldest sister's wedding to a lawyer in Shanghai a year ago.

She was the youngest of three girls, with her brother falling between her older sisters. Even though her father was wealthy, three dowries was at least one too many for any man, or so he'd said. A small, mean part of her was overjoyed at her good fortune. She'd never have to fear some overbearing mother-in-law who'd demand grandsons like they were as easy to come by as apples in September. 

With her unbound feet, no _respectable_ man would want to marry her anyway. 

The other good news, Rose reflected, was the news of her and the professor's imminent departure wasn't widely known among the students. Not yet. She imagined it'd be all over the school by the end of the week, and the more she thought about it, while it was painful to leave her country, leave this school, at least over in England, people wouldn't frown upon her simply for being a girl. Wasn't the best school for force-sensitives in North America founded by a woman? If there was ever someone who kicked down more walls in the name of women in the Force, it was Ahsoka Tano.

Brought to Jedha in eighteen-fifty from Egypt, she'd been one of a handful of students from outside the British Isles to attend the school, and had rapidly moved through her lessons and classes to become one of the most promising Jedi of the Nineteenth Century. Only to be falsely accused of theft, and expelled from the Order. After her innocence was discovered, she left England and immigrated to Canada, and started a Force school in Ontario, on the site of a former Franciscan Monastery.

According to Professor Chen, when Tano passed away in nineteen-ten, every Force sensitive in the world wailed in grief. 

Rather than argue there was no way to prove such a claim, she took it on faith he was right; she had often been told when she still lived in her parent's home, she was a morose toddler, who would cry for no reason, who was beyond comfort. An infancy spent feeling the deaths of the Jedi in the Great War was her explanation. 

She tucked her blanket under her pallet, making sure it was wrinkle free before she stood, pulled on her slippers and exited the little room, heading for the dining hall. It was just past five in the morning, and she moved silently, joining the others who were on breakfast duty. The air in the courtyard was airless and muggy, and the sun was barely a strip of color on the horizon. 

By the time she and Professor Îmwe arrived in England, it would almost be autumn. 

“Salt-mouse!” A voice hissed next to her and she looked over to see the same boy from yesterday, looking wan and tired. “What did Master Chen want yesterday?”

Rose shook her head, not certain if she was supposed to talk about her leaving or not. “Nothing important.” 

“Ha!” He retorted, still keeping his voice low. “I saw Master Îmwe heading into his office before I went and fetched you yesterday.” He ducked his head. “He sent Padawan Lao out to send a telegram last night. To England. You know what's in England, right?”

“The source of the Opium Wars?” She retorted, it was too hot out already. If it was this warm in the courtyard, the kitchen was going to be wretched.

“You think you're clever.” He snickered. “Jedha. Rumor has it Master Îmwe is going to help Master Skywalker reopen the school.” 

“Europe needs one.” She answered, “Every single one of them is closed, most of the teachers that were left following the War went to the schools in the Americas.” 

“Master Îmwe can't make the journey alone. You know the school's going to send someone else with him. A student, most likely.” the boy gave her a knowing smile. “after some thought, I reasoned it had to be _you,_ salt-mouse. You're the most proficient at English in this school among the students, and half the facility.” 

“I am not the most proficient speaker of English in the school, I'm the most fluent.”Rose shot him a look. “You need to study your adjectives, and you need to stop snooping in other people's heads in the middle of the night.” She saw his face darken, and she lifted her chin. “Furthermore, I don't see how my going to England should bother you. Unless you're upset you have to find someone new to bully.”

He sneered, grabbing her arm and twisting it hard, causing her to bite her bottom lip to hold back her cry of pain. “You know, they eat little smart-mouthed salt-mice over there. Odds are you won't even make out of Constan...” His words were cut off as Lady Jung grabbed his ear, and he let go of Rose's arm, his cry echoing across the courtyard. 

“Padawan Song, it seems you are still struggling to understand the difference between speaking and behaving with a clean heart and with a dirty one.” She looked over at Rose. “Hurry along now, Padawan Tico, I believe you are needed to help prepare the tables.” With the boy's ear still in her grip, the woman marched towards the rear kitchen. “You need another lesson in what is clean and what is dirty...” 

She didn't hear the rest of the conversation, and she walked quickly to catch up with the other students going into the dining hall. 

Three more days. 

*

Ben ran a brush through his hair, not really focused on his reflection in front of him. Today had not been the best of days for him mentally. After dinner, which was just as tense as luncheon, he'd already known he'd have to have a long talk with Rey once they retired for the evening. Uncle Luke, in his typical manner, had not brought up the subject at either meal, and had not shown his face at tea either. He was certain the family method of not talking about problems between them caused things to fester rather than heal. 

Something they would both have to work on. 

Truth be told, he knew he shouldn't have been surprised when the grief and anger that boiled up in him at the casual mention of his mother at breakfast had struck him. He so rarely thought about his parents – twenty years dead – it was always somewhat of a shock to him when he was reminded out of the blue. 

He stiffened as he heard the door of the bedroom open and close, and a moment later, he saw Rey appear in the mirror behind him. “I won't insult you by saying I'm fine.”

“A blind man could see you're anything but.” she answered, coming over and taking the brush from his hand, kissing his cheek, “I'll only be a few minutes.” 

He nodded, setting his cheek against hers, closing his eyes. “I'm sorry I was in such a wretched mood for most of the day.” 

“I think we all spent most of the day doing our own separate things, but I appreciate your apology.” She kissed his cheek again. “If you're in need of something sweet, I think there may be a few biscuits left in my jar. I know I didn't eat all of them.” 

He let out a soft chuckle, “I'm glad to see you feel like eating again. You had me worried these last few weeks.” he stated as he left her alone in the bath, going out into the bedroom and sitting down heavily in his overstuffed chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. Ben wanted to get himself centered before he had this conversation. He focused on his breathing as he heard the familiar sounds of running water, then a few rustling noises, and he closed his eyes, inhaling, counting to seven, and then letting it out, counting seven again. 

The door from the bath creaked slightly and he straightened up as Rey came out and sat down in her chair across from him, taking both of his hands in hers. “Do you want a glass of water, Ben?”

He let go of the breath he was holding and looked up, braving a smile. “No, thank you.” He closed his eyes, swallowed and then focused on her. “I had a rather... unpleasant confrontation with my uncle this morning at breakfast, and it hung over me for most of the day, causing my rather boorish mood.” 

She squeezed his hands, “I have noticed you Skywalkers are rather terrible about discussing the elephants in the room.” she wrinkled her nose. “Pretty sure Finn knows too, and Maz, well...”

“Maz knows everything.” He shook his head to clear it. “Basically, it started out with me making a joke about his age, and he reminded me he and my mother are the same age... or would be, if...” He looked down at their hands. “When my parents died, I don't think I ever really discussed it with anyone. Not even my uncle, and he was my mother's twin. The thing is, I can't even picture her being fifty three, because to me, she'll be forever thirty-three. Young, beautiful, no gray hair, no lines – old doesn't belong to her. My father's a different story, being ten years older than my mother, I don't remember him when he didn't show his age.” He closed his eyes, still able to see the medals and stripes on his father's military jacket with perfect clarity.

“Ben.” She set one of her hands on his cheek. “You were only eleven when the cholera outbreak happened, it was unexpected. And well, grief is a strange thing. You often fail to see how it affects others because of its own affect on yourself.” 

He leaned into her touch, swallowing. “I know, I...” He hated the tear slipping down his cheek, “I didn't think when I left India, I wouldn't see my parents again. I thought I'd get to go back, or they would return to England – something.” He closed his eyes and felt her forehead against his. “I'd have done a better job of saying good-bye.” 

“I'm sorry, Ben.” Her hand slipped into his hair, her lips were against his cheek. “You weren't to know.” 

He slid out of his chair and over so he could rest his head against her knees, loving the feel of her arms around him. “It was the casual mention of my mother...it made me feel like the outbreak was last month, not two decades ago. I know, it sounds like rubbish...”

“It's not rubbish.” She carded her fingers through his hair, her force-signature reaching out to brush against his. “Grief is a guest who never really leaves, it merely becomes proficient at hiding in one's life.” 

He nodded, resting his hand against her thigh. “It's not all that different from looking at the empty chairs in the dining room. They may not be at the table, but they're still there.” 

“I know, darling.” Her thumb brushed the backside of his ear, causing him to shiver. “Even though they're still in the room, removing them would somehow be worse. Or eating in the smaller room instead.” 

He lifted his head, moving his arm to rest across her legs, looking up at her and smiled. “What did I ever do to deserve someone as kind and as wise as you, Reyes?”

Her cheeks went pink, and she shook her head. “I believe all you did was walk into the middle of my luncheon in Monte, Benjamin.” 

Ben rose to his feet, kissing her forehead. “After which you shattered a wine bottle, and allowed me to escape to my table before I was cornered by the appalling Mrs. Antilles.” He chuckled and slid an arm around her back, and the other under her knees, picking her up out of the chair with ease.

“What are you doing?” Rey threw her arms around his neck, her cheeks bright. “I can walk perfectly fine!”

He shook his head and adjust his grip, carrying her over to the bed. “You can't tell me not to spoil you, Reyes.” He tucked her into her side of the bed, pulling the covers up over her legs. “Besides, you weren't wearing your slippers.” He kissed her cheek, “When your feet hurt, you don't wear shoes of any kind.” 

She pulled the small dish on her bedside table towards her and removed her rings, depositing them inside as he turned out the rest of the lights in the room. “It's the heels I was wearing at dinner, I think not only are my dresses getting tight, so are my shoes.” 

“Possibly.” He got into his side of the bed, and she turned out the lamp on her table and curled up next to him, her head resting on his chest. “Although it is nice to see you feeling better.” He waved his hand, and the lamp on his bedside table went out. 

“I need to learn how to do that.” Rey muttered, sleepily. “Seems useful.” 

“Says the lady who healed a cut on my chin last night.” He slipped his hand down to the hem of her pajama top and slid it underneath, resting it against her stomach. “Not to mention we've already established you and glass are enemies.” His laugh was cut off as a throw pillow slapped him in the face. “Ow!”

“You know the bottle was an accident, and I haven't broken anything since, Benjamin Organa!” She retorted, still brandishing her weapon, her eyes bright in the dark room.

He chuckled, pushing his hair out of his face. “And here I thought you liked it when I teased you.” He sat up, sliding an arm around her and kissed her softly. “Or am I mistaken?”

She wrinkled her nose. “You never fight fair.” She grumbled as he kissed her again, tugging on her bottom lip with both of his. 

“No one said you had to do the same.” He slid his other hand down her arm, nuzzling her neck as he worked her fingers out of the tassels, easing the pillow from her grip. He stopped, sensing her slight discomfort and he pulled away, setting his fingers on her chin. “Reyes?”

She shook her head. “Not tonight. My feet aren't the only thing that's sore.” 

He smiled and kissed her gently. “Sweetheart.” He hugged her, pressing a second kiss to the top of her head. “It's all right.” He pulled away, running his fingers along her spine, gently massaging the area. “Relax.” he turned so his front was to her back and spread his hands, rubbing the surface in slow circles. 

Tension was seeping out of Rey under his ministrations, and her shoulders slumped, her head dropping. “Oh...” She gasped as he worked out a particularly stubborn knot. “that feels wonderful.”

Ben continued his work, taking her left arm first, and pulling the aches down the length of it, and then releasing from her fingers, her knuckles cracking softly when he did. “Sorry.” He kissed the nape of her neck.

“Don't be.” she tilted her head back over his shoulder, and his hands stilled on her waist. “I think you have a slight obsession with my stomach.”

“Wrong.” He snickered and settled the two of them back down on the bed, holding her against him. “I have a complete obsession with every part of you.” He closed his eyes. “Perhaps we could go down to London a few days early. Take you to get some new clothes.” 

“Maybe.” She yawned. “Ask me again when I'm not so tired.” 

He chuckled and pressed his lips against her forehead, half on her skin, half in her hair. “I will. Good night.” 

“Good night.” Rey rubbed her cheek against his chest, drifting off. 

Ben laid awake a while longer, listening to the quiet sound of his beloved's breathing, slow and even next to him, and underneath, the wonderful sound of their hearts beating, steady and synchronized, and the miraculous sound of the third heartbeat of their child, fluttering and sure. He closed his eyes, letting the beats soothe him into slumber. 

**

It was nearly twenty hours by rail to Hong Kong. Beijing had already faded from view out the window, and the early morning showed a pastoral landscape, the train racing through the countryside with no care to the little villages and hamlets they were passing. Rose leaned against the glass, idly looking ahead; it would be bad luck to look behind them. The compartment wasn't full, and she glanced over at Professor Îmwe, who was sitting perfectly placid on the seat next to her, his eyes closed, leaning against his tall walking stick, whispering something too soft for her to hear. Across from them sat a middle aged couple, who kept looking from the professor to her, clearly looking for some sort of familial connection. She shifted so she could rest her chin on her hand, and gave the wife a smile. 

The woman glanced down at her shoes, then back at her face. She was checking to see if she had bound feet. No woman at the Imperial School had bound feet. It was seen as cruel, and in this modern age, such a vanity was soon to come to an end. Her own smile was slow and she glanced at her husband, and then ducked her head. 

Rose turned her attention back out the window, and she felt a small nudge in her mind, and she saw the professor smile out of the corner of her eye. 

“Oh, I beg your pardon, I thought you were asleep.” The man across the isle spoke up. “I didn't know...” 

“It's still early in the morning.” Professor Îmwe's voice was calm as his expression. “Are you going to Shanghai?”

“Yes. My eldest nephew is getting married.” The man stated. “And where are you and your... granddaughter headed?” 

“Hong Kong.” the professor stated, “Rose has not been on a train in some time, so she would like to admire the view rather than engage in conversation.” 

“Understandable.” the man made a noise somewhere between a cough and a sneeze. “Pardon me. Country air never agrees with me. Same with gardens – unless it's winter.” 

“Winter will be here before we know it.” His tone was solemn. “Many different winters will arrive. Each on the heels of the one that precedes it. None of us will be here to see the long winter wearing the mask of spring.” 

“Young lady, does your grandfather always talk so cryptically?” The man demanded.

Rose turned from the window and resisted the urge to shrug. “I'd have better luck at convincing a sparrow it is a raven than I would to get my grandfather to talk sensibly.” 

Professor Îmwe laughed. “I speak in perfect sense, child. What is nonsense to some is perfect clarity to others.” 

The man cleared his throat. “If you'll excuse us, we're going down to the dining car for breakfast.” He stood up and his wife did the same, the two of them exiting the compartment without another word. The sound of the door closing was lost in the train's whistle. 

Rose let her shoulders fall. “Something isn't right between that couple, professor.” 

He shook his head. “The husband has a mistress in Shanghai. He has told his wife on numerous occasions it is his work which takes him away from home. The wedding they are going to is true, but he will be caught in his lie before their trip is out.” 

“He has no one to blame for what happens but himself.” She rubbed her nose, sitting back in her seat. “I do hope the people whom we'll share a cabin with on the ship from Hong Kong to Constantinople are pleasant.” 

“We will have several different traveling companions.” He nodded. “From Hong Kong to Saigon, Saigon to Bombay, Bombay to Constantinople.” His smile grew serious. “Few who set sail from our coast are headed so far, to the other side of the world.” 

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “This journey will end the same way it began, with a ride in an automobile.” She paused. “We're not taking a train from London to Kent, are we?”

“No, we will be met in the city by someone from the school. They will drive us there.” He smiled again, the placid look coming back to his face. “The long journey will exhaust us, to be sure, but we will not suffer the disorientation of time. It is morning here, but in England, it is the middle of the night.” 

“I don't believe such problems will arise with travelers until planes become regular transportation.” She shook her head. “I find it hard to believe this journey could be reduced to hours instead of days.” 

The professor chuckled. “My father would be stunned to learn this journey will take us half a month, instead of half a year.” He shook his head. “Such is the way of time, child. I would not be surprised if mankind leaves the bonds of earth to reach into the stars.” 

Rose bit at her bottom lip. “I know enough about astronomy to know it's impossible to touch a star. The moon, yes – but not the Sun.” 

“A truth, to be certain.” He turned his head to the side, his sightless eyes fixed on her. “You may live to see the day mankind sets foot upon the moon.” 

She ducked her head, unnerved. “What did you mean by a winter disguised as a spring?” 

“Many things appear to be wonderful at first glance. Spring can arrive in early March, but more often than not, winter strikes one last time, killing the early buds and fields, leaving the land and the people wanting.” He sighed. “You will understand when it happens. You will remember this conversation and understand.” His smile slowly returned. “Professor Chen was wrong to tell you to hold your tongue. Things in the west are not as they are in the east.” He turned his head towards her. “You needn't always keep silent. Once we reach Europe, you will understand.” 

“I don't believe it's possible to achieve understanding in two weeks.” Rose went back to looking out the window, watching her homeland race away into her past, her mind spinning with the ideas of this winter, flying, and wondering what the surface of the moon felt like.

*

The keys gently rattled against one another, augmented by the occasional soft creak of the floor as Luke made his way down the hall. It was late; everyone else was abed and sleeping. He was rather surprised he hadn't run into Maz, telling him to go back to his room and get some rest, he was still recovering from his illness, or some other such nonsense. The woman meant well, but he had done enough resting. Almost ten years of it. His footsteps were muffled by the long rug running the entire length of the corridor, faded in spots where the uncovered windows on his left had let the sunlight in. 

He came to the end of the hall, where a set of double-doors, innocuous and no different from the hundreds of doors in this house were closed, the glass knobs the only thing to distinguish them from others. “Here, we begin.” He set the key in the lock, the snapping of it from closed to open echoed loudly in the stillness, and he glanced behind him, and shook his head as he turned back around and entered the room. 

The waning moon shone brightly outside, casting the stone chamber into deep shadows, and Luke closed the door, re-locking it and setting the ring of keys on the side table immediately to his right, the only furniture in the room. The only other item on the table was a wide, shallow wooden bowl full of small polished rocks in a dozen different colors, and six hues of each color. He ran his fingers through them, dislodging dust and loosening them from where they had settled since the last time he had entered this room, and had been at this bowl, some seven months ago. When he found Finn, and, had he cast the net wider, he would have found Rey. He removed his suit jacket, laying it down on the other side of the table.

He closed his eyes, summoning the Force to him and held his hand over the bowl, breathing slow and easy. As he felt the air in the room shift around him, he moved his other hand over the bowl, palm up, and, one by one, he felt five separate taps against his palm and he let out a long breath, opening his eyes and looking down. The five rocks now in his hand were each a different color, although he noted two of them were similar shades of blue. His finger brushed the smallest of the stones; a shade of amethyst nestled next to one of jade green.. “Jedha.” He whispered, holding his hand out, and the rocks, glistening in the light, tumbled over themselves in the air, before settling down in the center of the floor. “What is known.” He opened the long drawer, opening the folded swath of fabric within, revealing several pieces of chalk. He took one of them and went to where the first rocks had come to settle, kneeling and drawing a circle around them. 

He set his chalk on the left side of the circle, and closed his eyes again. “East.” He whispered, and he felt his hand jerked sharply away, before stopping abruptly, and his hand floated back to center, guided by the Force, and as he felt the cool wood against his skin, he found his voice again. “West.” This time, the movement was persistent, but not nearly as abrupt, and he found himself crawling backwards, the scrape of chalk on floor only slightly louder than his other hand, holding him steady as he did. It stopped, and he frowned, uncertain of how far he had gone. “Where am I?” He asked, and again, the Force tugged at his hand, causing him to scribble something down on the floor. 

He opened his eyes and returned to the circle, and repeated the process twice more, once to head north, and the other to head south. 

Going back to the table, Luke took out four candlesticks, placing an unburnt candle in each one, set them down on the floor next to where each point ended. He returned to take a fifth candlestick, and placed a half-used candle within, taking it and a box of matches back to the center, and set it in the circle, placing the rocks into the sconce. He set his stone to the East, Ben's to the West, Finn's to the South, and Reyes's and the small purple stone to the North. “What is lost can always be found. If not how we expect.” He intoned, picking up the box of matches and striking one against the flint, touching the flame to the candle to the wick. 

He shook the match out, then rose to his feet, standing to the southwest, held his hand over the candle, closed his eyes before curling his fingers into a fist, and, summoning the Force once more, flexed his hand out. Four sparks shot out from the flame, and lit the remaining candles. For a moment, he stood still, watching the light dance before it became steady, and he smiled, turning to walk back to the table. He stumbled slightly, grasping the table for support. “What...” He squeezed his eyes shut as the room began to spin around him and he let go of the table to clamp his hands over his ears as the screams began; too many voices to pick out a single one, or even count. 

A sharp pain went up his leg as his hip made contact with the table, and then a pair of hands seized him, shaking him. “Uncle Luke!” Ben's voice cut through the noise, and he clung to his nephew, breathing hard.

“I'm sorry, I...” He shook his head, and he looked towards the candles, which still burned brightly, but now, several of the polished rocks dotted the floor, the bowl lay on the floor, upside down, holding the rest of the stones beneath it. “I disturbed your sleep.” 

“You're not supposed to do this alone. No one is.” Ben shook his head and there was a creak of floorboards, and they turned to see Reyes and Finn, in slippers and bathrobes, standing in the threshold. “Come in, both of you and close the door.” 

“What's going on?” Finn seemed a little more awake than Rey did, as he shut the door. “It's a wonder the whole house isn't awake.” 

“The servants all sleep on the other side of the house.” Luke rubbed his eyes. “And I know I shouldn't do this alone, Benjamin. However, what's done is done.” 

Ben went over to Rey, rubbing her arms and whispered something to her, and she nodded. “You've told me time and time again not to take the quick and easy path, uncle. You should have at least waited for Îmwe to arrive before attempting a search.” he looked over at Finn. “I already know you've done it once, but attempting it a second time, when you're still recovering from illness?”

“I'm in perfectly good health.” Luke shook his head and then saw both Rey and Finn were staring at the western candle, and at the word he had scrawled there. “What?”

“Germany.” Finn whispered, then looked over at Rey and Ben. “You already speak Dutch, and you said you're learning German when the minister and his wife came to dinner.” He shot a look over at Luke. “Do you two...” He pointed at the couple, moving his finger between them, “know something we don't?”

“We're not having this discussion in the middle of the night.” Ben answered, then looked over at Luke. “After we've all had a decent nights sleep, if possible, and had breakfast. Council Room at ten o'clock?” 

Finn nodded in agreement and Luke took a breath. “Very well.” He glanced down at the candles and rocks, and waved his hand, extinguishing the lights. “Let's get some sleep. All of us.” They made their way out of the room, and he cast one last look behind him, before shutting the door and locking it, and in the back of his mind, he could hear a lone wailing noise, fading before they even reached the end of the corridor.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A train journey for Rose and Chirrut, and Rey runs into an old acquaintance while in London.

Five more days. 

Rose rolled over in the narrow bed, the constant sound of the train drowned out the professor's snores. Four more days on this train, then another train from Paris to Calais, then, compared to the last boat, a short ride across the English Channel, and they would be there. Every morning since they left China she woke up tired, and the only thing she was absolutely certain of doing upon reaching Jedha was to sleep until she was no longer tired. Even if she didn't sleep, she desperately wanted to be alone for at least a handful of hours. She missed silence and peace; something which seemed impossible to grasp right now. It'd been dark when they left Constantinople, and she was deeply asleep before the train was out of Turkey. 

By her estimation, they were somewhere in Romania. 

She pushed the covers down then crawled out, and across to the window, pushing the dark curtain aside, and gasped. They were in the _mountains_. Setting her fingers against the glass, she moved closer to take a better look. For the first time since they started this journey, she actually felt excited – she hadn't looked out at any passing scenery with any emotion other than resignation for days. But now, this – this was somehow different. This wasn't the countryside of her homeland, or the monotony of the seas. They were forced to stay below decks when they went through the Suez Canal, along with the rest of the passengers. Their cabin didn't have a porthole, so she'd seen nothing of Egypt. She squinted, stunned when she realized some of the more distant peaks were capped with snow. Snow, in August! “Incredible.” 

“What is out there, Padawan Tico?” Professor Îmwe asked from the bunk below hers. “What has caught your attention so?”

“Mountains.” She swallowed hard. “In shades of green, blue and white. Snow in the summer.” 

“It may not last the day, but it still happens.” He cleared his throat. “The journey is nearly at an end, and now, there is less sorrow for what we have left behind than the anticipation of what lies before us.” 

Rose's stomach rumbled. “Right now, I believe the only thing to look forward to is breakfast.” She slid out of her bunk, her feet barely able to reach the bed below before she dropped to the floor. The compartment seemed crowded with both of them up and the beds down, and the whole car swayed as the train rounded a curve, and she felt the man's hand on her back. “Thank you.” 

“You're welcome.” He cleared his throat. “I will wait in the passageway while you change, and then we will trade places.” With one hand out, he walked forward until he reached the small door and went into the corridor.

Not wasting any time, Rose quickly changed from pajamas into a skirt and blouse, shoving her bed up and out of the way before putting the sleep garments in her bag and sat down on the other bed to pull on her shoes and socks. It might have taken her all of two minutes, and when she opened the door, the professor nearly fell back inside. “Are you all right, Professor?” 

“The corridor is narrow.” He replied, and set a hand on the wall. “It won't take me long to change.” 

“Yes, sir.” She stepped out, closing the door and leaning against it. The train's whistle sounded ahead of her, the noise almost lost in the constant chugging of the wheels. It rang out again and she saw movement up in front of the car, moving in her direction. She straightened up, holding herself almost perfectly flat against the door when a man in a pin stripe suit walked past, giving her an odd look before continuing on. 

She caught a trace of emotion from him; surprise – but his thoughts were in a language she could neither understand or identify. She remained perfectly stoic while he vanished through a door. There were a few thumps behind her in the cabin that nearly made her want to open the door and investigate, but she remained steadfast; if Professor Îmwe respected her privacy, she should respect his. 

“Gutten Morgen.” A voice said to her left and she turned to see an older woman, perhaps forty, walking past her, with a young girl, around her own age with her. 

“Good morning.” Rose offered, and the woman smiled and turned to her daughter, saying something rapidly, of which she couldn't make out a single thing. Did the professor and her sound similar, when they were speaking in their own native tongue of Mandarin? 

“Pardon me, my English is plain.” the woman smiled warmly. “My daughter wishes to know where you are from.” 

“China.” She gave a small smile in return. “Northern China.” She added, wondering if making geographic distinctions was necessary any more. “I'm on my way to England.” 

“We're headed home, to Vienna.” the woman said something to her daughter and then the two of them moved on, clearly absorbed in something else. 

The door behind her rolled open. “We should be on our way to the dining car, Padawan Tico.” the professor came out into the corridor, with his shorter walking stick. “The way is too narrow for my staff.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “Lead the way, Little Tiger.” 

Rose bit back the chuckle while they went down towards the dining car. “The West has a completely different zodiac, Professor. I don't believe it matters if I was born in the Year of the Tiger or not.” 

“One does not cease to be what one is simply by changing their physical location.” His grip tightened when they left their car and went into the next. “You will always be a member of the Tico family, though the Force has brought you into a new fold.” 

She drew her expression to one of calm. “I thought we agreed to no philosophy before morning tea. Or are you going to use the argument that now we are in the West, and the agreement must be rewritten?”

He laughed in reply. “No, Little Tiger, you are right. One should not make decisions on an empty stomach, other than what to have to eat.” They came into the dining car, and he moved slightly off to her side, and she guided them to an empty table, him sitting facing the rear of the train. “I know you read English with almost the same proficiency of you speaking it.” 

Rose managed a small smile in reply while a waiter came over to their table, setting down two menus, and then went slightly pale at the sight of the professor's sightless eyes. “Good morning.” 

The man shook himself and smiled. “Good morning. Tea or coffee?”

“Tea, please. For both of us.” She replied and the man nodded, moving away. He was more alarmed by the blindness than the fact the two of them were from somewhere he couldn't place. Well, it couldn't be helped. You could barely place anyone's homeland by their face alone. “Poached eggs on toast, omelet with ham, scrambled eggs and bacon, wheat cakes with maple syrup and ham or bacon.” She looked up. “Do you want to hear all the toast offerings?”

The waiter returned with a pot of tea, filling both of their cups, then left the pot on a woven mat in the center of the table. “Are you still looking over the menu?” 

“I would like the poached eggs.” Professor Îmwe answered, smiling. “Please.” He held up the menu, which the man took, and Rose could see he was still unnerved. 

“Certainly.” He scribbled the order down and looked in her direction. “Miss?”

“Wheat cakes, with bacon, please.” she held the menu out and he took it, heading towards the rear of the car. She dropped a sugar cube in both her and the professor's cups, then unrolled her silverware slowly, watching the professor do the same, stirring his tea twice with his spoon before he picked up the cup. 

“I know you long for some time to yourself in which you do not have to help me.” The professor's expression softened. “Most padawans would not have been completely patient so long. Others who could have been suggested for this journey might well have left the train in the night, or ran away when were in India.” 

“We'll be at Jedha before the end of this week. I can last five more days.” She took her teacup in her hands. “You would like some peace and quiet too. Although, it's rather easy to let the intrusive thoughts of others fade out when you do not understand their language.” She smiled over the rim and the train's whistle sounded. Outside the windows, the countryside shifted slowly, giving way to the outskirts of Bucharest.

*

Ben kept one hand on Rey's arm while he sat on the bed, watching her sleep. The drive down from Jedha was uneventful; she'd still felt the need to lie down shortly after they arrived at their hotel, and far be it from him to deny her her rest. Since their return to England almost three months ago, his wife chose to have a nap from shortly after luncheon to before tea. Even if she didn't sleep, she retreated to their bedroom and laid down. He slid his hand down her arm, then leaned over and kissed her temple. “I envy you in your ability to sleep anywhere.” He moved off the bed and walked to the end of the bed before sitting again, setting her feet in his lap and started to unbuckle her shoes. 

“Nn...I'll be fine with them on.” Rey mumbled, more to the pillow than to him.

“Nonsense.” He gently pulled off the right heel, setting it on the floor. “It doesn't matter if you were standing or not, I know you don't like to wear shoes any longer than you have to.” 

She snickered, then wiggled her toes in her stocking after he removed the left shoe. “Don't tickle me.” 

“Wouldn't dream of it.” He held her foot in one hand and started to massage her insole with the other. “I thought you were asleep.” 

“I spent most of the drive in a daze.” She yawned, stretching and set her free foot against his thigh. “I'm not all that sore or swollen.” 

He chuckled. “that's because you're doing what the doctor told you and cut back on your salt intake.” He adjusted his hands so he could rub the bottom of her foot with both of his thumbs. “Although I know you'd eat half the plate of bacon in the mornings, if you could.”

“I forgo the bacon I honestly want and give myself a second helping of fruit and toast.” She sighed and let out a soft groan while he rubbed her toes. “I need to stop wearing those heels too, and those are the ones that go with practically everything I own.” 

Ben shook his head. “You should get some new shoes tomorrow when you go over to Selfridge's. Besides, it'll be winter soon and you need to keep your feet warm.” He smiled. “although if you wish to only wear your slippers for the duration of the season except on certain occasions, I don't mind.” He slid his hand up her calf, moving up the bed so her legs were lying over his, resting his hands on her knees. 

“If you start this, we're going to miss tea.” She stretched, and drew her face into a grimace. “Ouch.” She turned onto her side, and he stilled his hand. “I may have to give up lying on my back soon.” 

He rubbed her calf slowly, the fabric of her stocking slightly rough against his palm. “We could always make tea our dinner, and retreat back to this room for several hours before ringing up for a midnight snack around ten.” 

“Hm.” She waved her hand, and he felt the slight tug on his sleeve with the Force. “Come up here.” 

“Someone's been practicing.” he remarked, pulling off his own shoes before stretching out behind her, wrapping one arm over her, and propped himself up with the other. “I won't give you a lecture about being careful.”

“Your uncle's already given me the 'summoning things with the Force' talk.” She smirked, “and then added two more books to my reading list.” Her expression softened. “I know I have enough of them now I won't be done with the list until the baby comes.” 

He smoothed down her hair, absently twisting a lock of it around his finger. “I know my uncle, he'll keep adding books until you they all start to run together.” He let go of her hair. “It's going to be rather strange when we get home. Three students, three teachers.” He tugged on her arm and moved so he was holding her against him, the position they usually found themselves falling asleep in every night, one hand on her cheek, the other on her waist. 

“I believe I'm strictly on books and nothing too physical.” She huffed, frustration seeping off of her. “Although, sometimes sitting alone and listening to the little one's heartbeat is a thousand times better.” She rubbed her cheek against his chest. “You know, we ate a rather lovely luncheon when we arrived, and tea's not for a few more hours.” She moved over him, her hands resting on his shoulders. “We haven't taken a bath together since Milan.” 

He grinned in reply, moving his hand down her back. “No, we haven't.” He brushed his lips against her chin; he missed those long, lazy mornings together. “An excellent idea.” He kissed her temple. “I'll go run us one.” He rose from the bed and crossed the room and went into the other room, turning on the tap in the bath, holding his hand under the spray until it adjusted to a good temperature before he put the stopper in. 

Ben was half-undressed when Rey appeared in the door, clad in only her one-piece undergarment, her face pink. “What's wrong?”

“I was thinner the last time we did this.” She ducked her head. “I know you've seen me naked since then, and at the same time...” 

He came over and kissed her forehead. “Are you being modest, Sweetheart?” He finished unbuttoning his shirt, and laid the garment over a rail. 

“It's different from when we're at home. It's usually been dark.” she came over to the tub, turning off the taps. “I know, you probably believe I'm being silly.” 

He watched while she undid the buttons and ties of the garment, the narrow window illuminating the room with more sunshine than seemed possible for such a small opening. “No, darling.” He finished undressing and he went over to her, wrapping her in an embrace. “You're forgetting I have a certain fascination with your growing belly.” He pushed the straps of her undergarment off her shoulders, stepping back slightly to watch the cloth fall to her ankles. “Still beautiful.” He kissed her softly, then lowered himself into the tub.

“You're humoring me.” She joined him, nestling herself between his legs. “You might change your mind when my stomach is so round I can't see my feet.” 

“Never.” He pressed his lips to the skin below her ear. “I'll never change my mind where you're concerned.”

*

The noise of the clacking wheels faded from notice miles down the track. After hearing it for hours, it became nothing more than breathing. Ever there, but long since important. Even when the whistle, seven cars in front of theirs echoed, it was the wind. It was late, Chirrut knew; sometime after ten at night. When he agreed to go to England, it'd been partially selfish in his own way. He hadn't been himself since the Great Influenza swept through the world, claiming lives with no regard and no qualms. 

The Influenza took Baze Malbus from him.

No one would dare speak of their relationship, even when they were both young. No one questioned, no one seemed to particularly care. There were such graver and more pressing issues, what did the nature of a relationship between two men matter? 

While he wasn't sensitive to the Force, Baze was indispensable to the school, helping many children who came from all parts of the country, and he'd been the one who brought Rose to the school, all those years ago. “You should be asleep.” He said, and a moment later, he heard the girl grumble. 

“I know. I can't.” She answered. “I've tried to meditate, but my mind refuses to settle.” 

“You miss China.” He replied, feeling the emotions seeping down from the bunk above him. “I will not insult you by saying you are a child and will learn to adjust and be perfectly resilient in all this change.” 

“We're going to go to sleep in Czechoslovakia and wake up in Hungary.” Rose sighed. “If I'm judging how fast we're moving and the distance we'll travel.” 

“Yes.” He set his hands over his chest, holding the blankets against him. “Is it only leaving China that has you so distressed, Padawan Tico?”

“No.” Her reply was honest. “You said a dragon was coming for China. What sort of dragon?” 

Chirrut swallowed hard. “The same dragon that came for Russia. Only the one preparing to strike will be more fierce, more bold, and will have the benefit of studying the one that dwells in the Soviet lands, learning to breathe a greater fire. One that will endure, and cause greater distress, all while looking proud and admirable.” 

“Every time I try to look into the future, all I see is shadows fighting.” The girl intoned. “And screaming. I'm standing in the middle of a massive flood, clinging to a tree, powerless to help anyone I see washing by.” 

“Sometimes, standing firm is all one can do in a storm.” Chirrut swallowed hard. The train started to slow, and other noises rushed in; some station, it was too soon for them to be in Prague. He automatically reached out, cloaking both his and Rose's Force-signatures. 

She grumbled and he heard her turn over. “Did you open a window without me knowing? Why is it cold?”

“Someone is on the train who can detect us.” He whispered, keeping his voice calm. “He is the one who has brought the cold.” He rose from the bed, keeping his face towards the door. It would be risky to reach out with the Force, and a rather distinguished sounding man was talking to a porter in German. “Do not leave this cabin alone until he departs the train, Rose.” He whispered, and he felt the girl's hand squeeze his. “He is dangerous.” 

“I understand.” Her fingers were dry against his. “Do others.... I mean...”

“No.” He swallowed, knowing her question in full. “He will detect us soon enough, and will cloak himself similarly. This is why we must remain together.” The train's whistle echoed out again, and the train began to move once more. “Good and bad is always arbitrary, my girl.” He turned and tugged on the hem of the blanket over Rose, effectively tucking her in. “But there is no greater evil than one that cloaks itself in good.” He sighed. “Try and rest.” He returned to his own bunk. 

Rose coughed. “I'm going to try the poached eggs tomorrow for breakfast.” 

He chuckled. “Yes.” He turned his focus inward, slowly measuring his breaths. 

Four more days.

*

Rey hadn't shopped for clothes extensively since she worked for Mrs. Kenyon. The elderly woman simply handed her a catalog, given her a budget, and told her to have fun. Her practical mind ordered mostly practical everyday wear. Sensible and sedate were the best way to describe them. Her employer's granddaughters gave her a few second-hand frocks, and she never cared about being a season or two behind in terms of fashion. It seemed a silly thing to keep up with.

The only thing Ben told her before she departed for her day was she should not, under any circumstances, carry her purchases back to the hotel. She took him to mean not all of the boxes at once, and he certainly couldn't fault her if she carried one or two light ones, opposed to half a dozen heavy ones. 

It took her a little while to get used to being out alone; she hadn't gone anywhere by herself for any length of time since April. Ben was at the Department of Education, gathering the paperwork required for opening Jedha, which he said would be mostly waiting in a stuffy building, and with the summer heat, it wasn't something she needed to be doing. Sitting on a long wooden bench on the third floor of Selfridge's, she questioned if being in this building was any better. 

“I'm starting to see why Mrs. Antilles always needed a nap after doing this after a few hours.” She shook her head, watching a group of young women, close to her age, sweep past, one of them proudly showing off the engagement ring on her left hand. She smiled absently and pressed her handkerchief to her nose. There were enough perfumes in this place to make even the most even-headed people feel dizzy. Something flickered in the corner of her eye, and she turned her head towards it, recognizing it for what it was the second she did; a latent force imprint. “What...” she reached out and a moment later, a small girl, perhaps six years old, looked from around a pillar at her. “Hello, little one.” She smiled, and paused, the child appeared ready to cry. “Are you lost?”

The child nodded and came over to the bench, sitting down next to her. “I need to find my daddy. We got separated.” 

Rey gave her a one-armed hug. “You know the best thing to do when you're lost?”

The girl shook her head. “What?”

“Stay in one place.” She lowered her arm. “So why don't you sit here with me, and I'll bet your daddy walks right by our bench.” 

The child beamed. “My name is Sibie, short for Sybil. What's yours?”

“Rey.” She returned the smile. “Short for Reyes.” She turned to look at the passing shoppers. “What does your father look like? Maybe I can help you find him.” 

“He's tall, with blond hair.” Sibie replied, matter-of-factly. “He's wearing a gray suit.” She rubbed her nose. “Grandmama is with us. She's got dark hair and she's wearing a blue frock. Her hat has a flower on it that matches.” 

She nodded in understanding. “I'm sure we'll see them in no time.” She offered her handkerchief. “Do you need to use this?”

The girl took it and wiped at her face, her expression rather solemn for someone so young. “We came to London because Great Uncle Harold and his wife are coming to visit.” She handed the cloth back. “Thank you.” 

“You're welcome.” Rey scanned the people passing them, and saw a man heading their way, clearly distressed, and, to her surprise, she recognized him. “Mr. Branson?” She stood up when he passed the bench, stopping short. 

“Yes?” He said, and in the same instant, Sibie jumped off the bench and hugged him.

“Daddy!” She grinned and he picked her up. “You were right, Miss Rey, he did walk by!”

Mr. Branson hugged the child, beaming, “Did you wander off to find those bears all on your own? You had your grandmama and I worried!”

“I'm sorry, Daddy. I couldn't find the bears.” Her expression fell. “Miss Rey told me if we stayed on the bench, you'd find us, and you did!”

“that was a smart thing to do, Sibie.” He kissed her cheek before he put her down. “Thank you,” he frowned, looking her over. “how did you know my name? Did my daughter tell you?”

Rey nearly laughed while an elegant woman in a blue frock joined them. “I don't blame you if you don't recognize me, I was eleven or twelve the last time we saw each other.” She stuffed her handkerchief back into her purse. “Or did you forget the girl who you used to play gin rummy with and could fall asleep anywhere?”

The woman gasped, covering her mouth; it was Lady Grantham. “Oh my goodness, Reyes Andor?” 

“Formerly, your ladyship, I got married back in April.” She tightened her grip on her purse, feeling rather like she was eleven again; it was strange to look at adults she knew in her childhood on the same eye-level. 

“Are you and your husband living in London, then?” Mr. Branson wasn't exactly intimidating, but his mother-in-law was a different story.

She shook her head. “We're in town for a few days, business.” It was the simplest way to put it. “We live in Kent, at Jedha.” She looked down at Sibie, who was staring up at her, her expression hard to read, and then the little girl's stomach rumbled, and she hid her face in reply. “I shouldn't be keeping you.” 

“It's no bother.” Mr. Branson took his daughter's hand. “We're going to go look at the bears, and we'll meet you downstairs, Cora.” 

“I'll be right along.” She replied before turning back to Rey after the two of them departed. “It's so nice to see you again, Miss...I'm sorry, Mrs. Organa, yes?”

“Yes, it's Mrs. Organa. A great deal has happened since my father and I left Downton. For everyone.” she shifted on her feet, it was almost like being back with Mrs. Kenyon. “How has your family been, your ladyship?”

“We've had our ups and downs, but the good always finds a way of outweighing the bad in the end.” She tucked her purse under her arm. “I did hear about your father, I'm terribly sorry for you loss.” 

Rey nodded. “Thank you.” 

“Why don't you and your husband come to dinner the day after tomorrow? Unless, you will be back in Kent by then.” She fairly beamed.

“Oh, we don't want to impose, your ladyship...” she kept her face steady, inwardly wincing. By all accounts, the two of them were now nearly equals on the social scale.

“It's no bother, and we'd love to have you.” The woman smiled. “Where are you and your husband staying? I'll ring you up later today, around six?” 

“Six would be perfectly fine.” Rey couldn't believe this was happening; being invited to dine with the Earl and Lady Grantham? Her twelve year old self would have fallen over laughing at such a notion. Blast, she was almost ready to burst out laughing, at nearly twenty-one years of age. “We're staying at the Savoy.” 

*

Rose rested her chin on her hand, her gaze fixed out the window, watching the train made its way through Germany, Czechoslovakia disappeared behind them hours ago. They would skirt through Austria before reaching France tomorrow, and then, the journey would nearly be complete. While she still found herself staring out the windows, now it was with less resignation and more of anticipation. The journey was nearly complete, and with the ever-changing scenery, time seemed to move more swiftly. Their time on the boat from Hong Kong to Constantinople seemed like one endless day. 

“Would you like to go the rear of the train and push, Miss Rose?” Professor Chirrut chuckled. “We'll be there before you know it.” 

“You've been saying that since Shanghai.” She replied, smiling and shifting on her seat, the train's whistle echoing back towards them. They had not encountered the cold man all day, but they both knew he was still on the train, perhaps avoiding them. “One more train, one more boat, and one car.” She bit at her bottom lip. “We'll leave straight from London for Kent, yes?” 

He nodded, adjusting the hold on his short cane, even though she knew he'd much rather have the longer staff, left behind in the cabin until they switched trains in Paris. “We will go through immigration when we arrive. When asked, you are there to be a student. I am there to work.”

“I'm not worried.” Frowning, she looked down, spying a newspaper jammed between the arm and the couch cushion. She pulled it free, expecting it to be in German or any other host of languages she didn't know, but to her surprise, it was a copy of the _London Times_ , dated yesterday. “There was an uprising in Nanchang.” 

“The Dragon has awoken.” the man replied. “Find another subject, child. For China is our past, and we can only look forward. Looking back will do us no good.” 

Rose swallowed, repressing the urge to read about the news from their homeland. She scanned more of the front page, and found a small article at the bottom. “President Coolidge has chosen not to run for reelection in the United States.” She turned the paper to the back, and found another batch of news, this one about American baseball. “The New York Yankees are expected to win the World Series this year.” 

“There is a safe subject.” He chuckled. “Do they mention Lou Gehrig?” 

She gaped at him. “How do you know about Lou Gehrig?” Knowing about an American first baseman, or indeed, any baseball player didn't fit in with the image she had of the man sitting on the couch with her. 

“I may be considered an old man by some, but I am not oblivious to the modern world. Baseball is something many generations can share, if only ones learn it is a sport for everyone, not merely boys and men. Although I believe cricket is the sport of choice in England.” He smiled. “Come, read to me about the Yankees, then we will have dinner.” 

*

Ben's day at the Department of Education went longer than expected. He rubbed the back of his neck while he opened the door of the hotel room, rather glad he'd phoned ahead to Rey to make plans to eat dinner in their room, opposed to changing and dining downstairs in the restaurant. He shut the door, setting his case on the table next to it, noting the half-dozen stacked boxes already present, and he checked the time; half past six. “Rey?”

“Here.” She called from one of the chairs, her face towards the window. 

He went over and kissed the top of her head. “How are you feeling, Darling?”

“I'm all right.” She set a hand on his chin and tilted her head up to brush her lips against it. “How was your day?”

“Long.” He sat down on the stool in front of the chair, taking her hands in both of his. “I'm almost thinking I want to eat dinner in my pajamas.” He chuckled, squeezing her fingers.

“Wouldn't be the first time we did.” she grinned, then took a breath, her expression turning serious. “Something rather – odd happened while I was out this morning.” 

“Don't tell me you ran into Mrs. Antilles.” He saw her eyes dart down for a moment. “Reyes?”

“I found a Force-sensitive child.” She swallowed. “I was in Selfridge's, taking a few moments off my feet when a lost little girl came by.” She worried her bottom lip. “She's the granddaughter of the estate owners from the town where I grew up.” 

Ben swallowed, then managed to smile. “How old is she? Do you know?”

“Six or seven, I wasn't entirely sure.” She looked away, her cheeks going slightly pink. “Lady Grantham has asked us to dinner the day after tomorrow at their home here in London.” She turned back to him. “I didn't accept, she's supposed to ring us this evening.”

“Well, it could be a good thing for us.” He took a breath and smiled. “Why don't you order dinner while I have a wash. I'm so hungry, I might eat the tablecloth at this point.” He rose to his feet and kissed her forehead again. “Did you get all of your shopping done?” He went to the bath, leaving the door open.

“Yes.” She answered, calling to him. “And no, I did not carry my boxes back, or even upstairs. Well, one box, but all it held was a pair of shoes.” 

He chuckled, shedding his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. “What kind of shoes? If they were boots, those could be considered heavy.”

“What on earth would I do with a pair of boots?” She retorted, laughing. 

Conversation was cut off when he turned on the water in the basin, undoing his waistcoat and then set it on his jacket before taking a wash cloth to his face and lower arms. All he seemed to do today was stand in line and answer the same questions over and over. He'd submitted part of the paperwork only to be given even more documents to fill out and return tomorrow. He shut the water off, and a moment later, he heard Rey hang up the phone. “What's for dinner?”

“Puree of carrot soup, roast squab with fried sweet potatoes, fresh asparagus, turned over apple cake, and tea.” She came to the doorway of the bath. “No wine, because I'm not supposed to drink too much of it, and it would not be a good idea for you to have almost an entire bottle to yourself.” 

“I know I wouldn't want to.” He rubbed his face with a towel, grimacing. “I'm not particularly fond of it.” He put the towel on a rail and carried his jacket and waistcoat out with him. “I'm under the impression I only find myself drinking it because it's expected, and you can't exactly have mugs of tea at a formal dinner party.” 

“Pity. Would make things more enjoyable.” She crossed the room, wrapping her arms around him. “It was strange being out alone today.” 

He returned the embrace. “Was my fiercely independent Reyes feeling lonely?” He rubbed her back. “I know, don't tease.” 

“You know what I mean.” Rey let out a breath. “It's different when we're at home, and off doing different things. We may not be together, but we're in the same house. Unless you're working with Poe for the day. But even then...” 

“I know.” He kissed the top of her head. “I missed you too.” He sighed. “I'm afraid it's more waiting and running around the Department of Education for me tomorrow. Can you find something to do to amuse yourself?” He smoothed down her hair, curling a lock around his finger. “Perhaps you could pay a visit to the National Gallery. Something indoors, and you could wear your new shoes. Get them broken in.” He dodged her fingers, laughing and pulling away before she could tickle him. 

“Are you trying to incite a pillow fight later this evening?” She narrowed her eyes at him, composing herself when the phone rang, and she moved towards it. “I'm going to get you!”

He grinned and leered at her. “Not if I get you first.” He went over to his dressing case, not paying attention her conversation. It was most likely Lady Grantham calling to extend the invitation for dinner in a few nights. There would be a great many dinners in the future; getting Jedha open and back on its feet wasn't all paperwork. He turned towards Rey after she hung up the phone. “What time are we expected?”

“Shortly before seven on Wednesday.” She returned to her chair, watching him. “I still have no idea what made her even entertain the idea of inviting us to dinner in the first place. I was still a little girl the last time they saw me.” 

“You've told me about your time reading to the recovering officers.” He went and sat in front of her chair, placing his head on her lap, closing his eyes when her hand came to settle in his hair, stroking it softly. “And the work your mother did also. The world is a strange place these days, love. And it will only become stranger while time marches on, until the strange is normal, and what is normal now, is archaic.” 

“You've been spending too much time with your uncle.” Reyes chuckled. “Perhaps you, Finn and Poe should find a cricket league to spend time with on Saturday mornings.”

“And what, pray tell, are you going to do?” He rubbed his cheek against the soft fabric of her skirt. 

“I'm sure Rose and I can find something to do.” She snickered. “The Crawleys don't know I'm Force-sensitive. I hope Mr. Branson doesn't suggest I was cheating in all the games of gin rummy we used to play, which I won with alarming consistency.” 

He chuckled and opened his eyes, looking up at her. “Were you?”

She went slightly pink. “Only when I was playing with Mr. Barrow. But considering a few of the other things I picked up from his mind, accusing me of cheating at a simple card game isn't a case of the pot calling the kettle black, it'd be the foundry calling the pot dirty.” 

“I can imagine.” He settled his head back down on her skirt, the frustration of the day seeping off of him while she stroked his hair. “We have tea tomorrow with Hux and his wife. Another headache.”

“Oh, it won't be all...” Her hand stilled and he frowned, sitting back to watch Reyes press a hand to her stomach, her expression wide in surprise. 

“Rey?” He touched her arm, his heart turning over. “What's wrong?”

“I think... I think I felt the baby move.” she laughed, and took his hand, setting it against her rib-cage. “I don't know, but I...” 

Under his palm, Ben couldn't feel anything other than his wife's ribs, and then, through the Force, something reached out, pushing against both of them, like a ghost of a warm breeze on a winter day. “I felt that.” He kissed Rey's temple, then moved to kiss her stomach. “We know you're there, little one, and we love you.” He brushed his lips against Rey's and a sharp knock came from the door of the suite. “Dinner delivery was quick.” 

Rey remained in her seat, her hand on her stomach, her head bowed, and he smiled at the sight, not wanting to intrude on any bonding she was doing through the Force with their child. 

All of his exhaustion and annoyance at the day was completely gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had no beta. 
> 
> Come say hi on Tumblr! @amilyn-lovegood
> 
> How about these Last Jedi trailers?


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Rey's time in London draws to close with a formal dinner, and Rose and Chirrut are nearly at their destination.

Rey came slowly awake, feeling Ben's lips brushing against her face and hair as he kissed her. She chuckled faintly as he pressed his mouth against the corner of hers, then moved lower, one of his hands resting on her belly under her pajamas, the other was against her head. “What are you up to?” 

“What makes you think I'm up to something?” He chuckled, the hand on her stomach moving down to rest on her hip as he settled down on his side, turning her face towards him and continuing to kiss her. “Can't I show you some affection first thing in the morning?” 

She smiled and turned, sliding a hand into his hair and kissing his chin. “I never said I was bothered, I merely asked what you're up to.” She moved closer, draping an arm over his waist as his lips moved down her neck, towards the hollow of her throat. “How did you sleep?”

“Dreamless.” He nuzzled her breasts against the fabric of her pajamas before stilling, resting his head on her shoulder. “Although, this seems to have the makings of a wonderful one.” His breath teased her collarbone. “If I didn't know I was awake, I'd think it'd to be so.” 

She grinned and pressed her lips into his hair. “Would you?” She ran her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp.

“I will always take our reality over any of my dreams.” He murmured against her skin. “My dreams never do you justice, darling.” He kissed her neck, then stilled, save for his hand, which traced over her stomach in slow, sweeping circles.

Rey swallowed and closed her eyes, letting herself sink into both his touch and the Force. “Do you mean that, love, or are you flattering me?” She graced the words over his mind, and felt his hold on her tighten.

“Since when do I flatter, sweetheart?” He smiled, moving to rest his head on his free hand. “I'm always perfectly sincere.” 

She chuckled and ran her hand through his hair as he moved to cup her belly. “I know. It's one of your endearing qualities.” 

“I didn't know you were keeping track of them.” He snickered and kissed her nose, smiling.“I may have to see this list.” He paused and shifted his hand, his smile widening. “Someone else has woken up.” 

She smiled and set her hand next to his, the soft push from within, the babe stretching out in the morning in a matter similar to her parents. The notion crossed her mind in an instant and she shot a look at Ben, whose eyes widened a fraction, and then she started to laugh. “You know, we really should think about names and pick one – before we start getting unsolicited and unwelcome suggestions.” She pushed herself up to a sit, groaning. “I thought I told you to not hit mommy's kidney, baby-girl.” 

He sat up and rubbed her back in slow circles. “She doesn't mean it, she's just trying to get comfortable.” He kissed her temple. “Don't tell me I haven't kicked you a time or two when I stretch as well.” 

She rolled her her eyes. “Given the number of times I've accidentally smacked you in the face with my arm, I think it's to be expected she's a little swimmer.” She rested her hands on her belly, smiling down, the motion within slowly subsiding as the babe found a comfortable position. “And as much as I would love to have a lazy morning in bed, breakfast is starting to sound like a good idea.” She leaned against him as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and set his hand back on her stomach. 

“A few more minutes won't hurt us.” He pressed his lips against her forehead. “I forward the motion we don't name her after any of her grandparents. Merely to make this fair, so to speak.” 

Rey covered a snicker. “Truth.” She covered a yawn, rubbing her cheek against his chest. She hadn't given any thought to names for their child – daughter. She couldn't remember a time when she didn't know the infant in her womb was a girl. The dreams she and Ben had back before they were married; although she had no idea how detailed his were in compared to hers. She had only seen the dark haired girl, thinking her a figment of her imagination, or a possibility. The future was always in motion; but at the same time... “Guess since we've elected not to name her after anyone we're related to, we have to start eliminating names with negative connotations for us. And nothing too common either.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “I may have not always liked being called Reyes, but at least I didn't get confused with someone else.”

“I'll ring for some tea.” Ben ran the backs of his fingers along the expanse of her belly. “So we don't have to go downstairs completely empty.” He kissed her softly, smiling. “Though we should pick out a boy name too. I don't think it's common knowledge most Force-sensitives can detect the gender of their unborn child, and sometimes those of others.” 

She laughed as he rose from the bed and went across the room to ring for their tea. “Well, that's easy enough. Fitzwilliam. Given some of the names parents are using these days, it's almost classical.” 

He chuckled. “ _Pride and Prejudice_ isn't even your favorite work of Jane Austen.” he picked up the telephone and dialed the number for service. “It's _Sense and Sensibility_.” 

“Yes, but I think there's only two people still alive who actually know such an obscure fact about me. And I'd say it's doubtful Mrs. Kenyon even knows I'm married, let alone expecting.” She shifted so her legs were over the side of the bed, groaning. “Don't worry, little one.” She grimaced at the next kick. “I think someone didn't enjoy the lamb as much as her mama did.” 

Ben hung up the phone and came back over to the bed. “Couldn't be.” He chuckled, handing her robe to her. “I'll wager she would rather have had nothing but pudding for dinner, instead of a complete meal.” 

She rose to her feet, pulling the garment on. “No dessert without eating your meat and vegetables.” She ran a hand back over her stomach as the movement within calmed. “I miss my biscuit jar.” She went pink and glanced over at Ben, who was grinning. “Quit it.” She reached over and poked him under the ribs. “I've caught you in it yourself a time or two. I almost think we should inform Maz we need two of them, one for both of us.” 

“I know there's always seven biscuits at the start of the day.” He pulled on his robe. “I also know there's going to be a jar in Miss Tico's room. Finn and I don't have a jar, but my uncle does.”

She crossed to the wardrobe. “You've never made biscuits, have you?” She shook her head as she selected a frock for her day. “Not all recipes make a dozen as the standard. And a good cook like Mrs. Sowerby knows what she needs to add or subtract to make it produce the number of biscuits she needs.” 

He chuckled. “I love it when you get logical, Reyes.” 

She smirked as she gathered up her under-linen. “Behave, we have things to get done today.” She checked her pile to make sure she had everything she needed before heading into the bath.

“Yes, dear.” Ben quipped, still chuckling.

*

The trip from Paris to Calais would take an entire day, despite the distance. There would be more stops -but it was the next to last day of their long journey. It was nearly over, and Rose once more found herself staring out the window of their train car, the excitement finally winning out over the trepidation and finality of earlier. The luggage rattled in the rack above her and Professor Îmwe as the train trundled through the city, and she glanced over at the man, who, for the first time since they left Romania, finally seemed at ease.

The cold-man who'd boarded their train in Austria had not gotten onto this one. She caught a glimpse of him heading for the exit when they had disembarked hours ago, the station packed with people despite the early hour. Fortunately, she and the professor had not had to go far within the station to find their train, and they were already settled, with a basket of food between them, before most of the other passengers had even started to board. 

“The last miles of the journey can be both the longest and the shortest.” The professor intoned. “Nearly there, and yet, still not in sight.” 

Rose frowned, and then returned her gaze out the window. “All we've done for the past two weeks is move forward. I miss standing still.” She rubbed her nose. “I don't know if I'll want to lie down or run around outside when we finally get to Jedha.” 

“The school has a vast garden. I'm certain you could do both.” He chuckled. “I will not insult you, Padawan Tico, by asking you to continue to remain patient. You have been nothing but since we left Beijing.” He let out a sigh also. “Most would not have lasted so long.”

“It wasn't easy, especially during the voyage from Hong Kong to Constantinople.” She grimaced. Looking back, the six days journey by boat seemed to last double, and were it not for the calender declaring otherwise, thought the trip lasted a month. “It'll only take a few hours to get across the English Channel.” she rested her chin on her hand, only mildly disappointed they were on the wrong side of the train to see the Eiffel Tower. “It almost makes me glad to know I will never take the trip in reverse.” 

“Always in motion is the future.” she looked back to see him resting his head on his cane. “But there are some things which are certain. Our departure from China being final is one of them.” He smiled absently, turning to face her. “Though I suspect, dear child, by the time you are my age, such a journey will be short.” 

“If aviation keeps moving by leaps and bounds, it won't take so long.” She did the math, and it would be sometime in the nineteen-sixties by the time she was Professor Îmwe's age. “Who knows, maybe mankind will get to the moon before I'm eighty.”

“A remarkable and lofty goal, Miss Tico, and highly probable.” He chuckled, then cleared his throat. “What is for breakfast?” 

Rose shook her head as she moved away from the window and opened up the basket, rather glad they had purchased it in the station, mainly so they could keep to their compartment and not risk someone stealing their things while they were gone. They had used what little French they knew to order enough food for two, trusting the woman on the other side of the counter to be honest. Inside the basket, she found four croissants, two apples, two pears, an assortment of cheeses, and two hearty looking sausages. “Fruit and a roll each.” She chuckled. “Do you want your pear or your apple?”

“Pear.” He answered, chuckling as she handed him a napkin. “What will you do, Rose, when you are the exulted age of eighty?”

She grinned and handed a croissant and one of the pears, electing to have the same meal as him. “Hopefully, I'll be telling padawans to stop running in the halls of Jedha.” She actually couldn't think of being so old. At thirteen, twenty, a mere seven years away, seemed to be distant and impossible – eighty was an unthinkable age. She shut the basket as the train's whistle sounded.

“Time will move faster the older you get, my child.” Professor Îmwe set his croissant down on top of the basket before he bit into his pear.

“Everyone tells me that, and while I don't doubt it, right now time still seems to move slowly.” She took a bite out of her own pear. “Which is why I shouldn't be in a hurry to grow up.”

“Quite true.” He nodded, stiffening as the compartment door slid open and a couple came into the carriage. “Good morning.”

“Je ne comprendre pas, monsieur.” The man replied, looking perplexed. She could pick up his thoughts, even though they were in French – from what she could tell, he was trying to place where in Asia they were form. He glanced at Rose. “Tu parle Francis, mademoiselle? 

“Un peu, pardon, monsieur.” Rose answered, watching as he put the luggage into the rack above the other bench and then he and the woman sat down, looking about as tired as she felt. “And if either of you speak Mandarin, I'll eat my shoes.” She added in her native language.

“Manners.” Professor Îmwe chided, but she could see him hiding a grin behind his pear.  


Glancing back at the couple, she saw the woman rest her head on the man's shoulder and started to drift off. She gave them both a small smile before she shifted her gaze back out the window, eating her pear as the sprawl of Paris began to give way to the French countryside. By this time tomorrow, they would be in London. 

Thirty-six hours to go.

*

Ben did a mental count of the number of pieces of sliver laid out on either side of his plate; a grand total of twenty. Nine courses, at the least. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a nine course dinner. When Hux and his wife had come to Jedha for dinner a month ago, they'd only had six. If this is what the Crawleys called semi-formal, he was loathed to imagine what full on formal was. More unnerving for him was the fact he was seated directly to the right of the hostess, Lady Grantham, while Rey was across and further down the table, sat between Mr. Branson and Mr. Levinson, the woman's brother. 

The soup was brought into the dining room, bringing with it a familiar scent, but he couldn't quite place it; something he felt he had forgotten, and struggled to remember. The bowls were set down in front of each diner, and he could tell the footmen were doing their best to be in synch with each other. Lady Cora cleared her throat as the last bowl was placed and one of the young men went out of the room while the other remained next to the door. “So what brings you to London, Mr. Organa?”

“Business in the reopening of Jedha.” He stated, “we're headed back to Kent tomorrow.” He ate a little of the soup; the flavor was a jolt to his senses, and instantly was able to place it – curried potato. His father's favorite. “Though we still have much work to do before the schooling can begin.”

“It was such a terrible time, after the War.” she shook her head. “Rebuilding is never easy.” She ate some of her own soup. “I was absolutely stunned when I ran into Rey, your wife, the other day. I hadn't seen her in years.” She glanced down the table and Ben followed her gaze. His wife was covering her mouth in an attempt to smother a giggle. “Then again, the last time I saw her, she was around eleven years old.” 

He frowned, looking back down at his bowl. There was something there – something she didn't want to say. “I daresay that's why Mr. Branson didn't recognize her.” 

“True.” Her smile returned, stirring her soup absently before taking a sip from her spoon. “Now, how did the two of you meet?”

“We met in Monte Carlo. I was there on vacation – she was working as a companion to a Mrs. Antilles.” he saw the tiny break in her expression. “Lady Grantham?”

“Henrietta Antilles?” She looked dumbfounded, then recovered. “Sorry, I shouldn't...”

“It's perfectly fine.” He said over his soup spoon. “I didn't like her either.” 

“I dare say that's what my brother has Reyes laughing at. My mother can't stand Henrietta. She'd sooner spend a month with my mother-in-law in the middle of nowhere than spend an evening with Mrs. Antilles.” She ate some more of her soup. “How's your uncle doing? I heard he was ill.” 

“He's fully recovered and well, thank you.” He picked up his water glass and took a drink. A part of him wanted to bring up the force-sensitive child he could detect a few floors above the dining room; but this wasn't the time or the place. A pity. “I'll have to mention meeting you, as I have heard him speak of you and your husband several times.” 

“I haven't seen Luke Skywalker since my daughter Sybil's funeral.” she took a sip of wine. “I'm sorry.”

“No, I should be the one to apologize if I've upset you.” He ate a little more of the soup. “Truly.”

She waved her hand, braving a smile. “It's perfectly fine, Mr. Organa. He was at her and Tom's wedding too.” She picked up her wine glass, her expression uncertain. “Although it's strange, I don't remember inviting him to either of Mary's or Edith's.” 

Ben couldn't remember the first part of this decade particularly well either. “Perhaps you did and he was unable to attend, for one reason or another.” He paused, “neither of your daughters joined you on this excursion down here to London?” 

“No. Mary is at home with our new grandchild and Edith had another event to attend.” She shook her head. “Tom and Sibie came because he's always rather liked my brother Harold. In truth, I think Sibie came along for the undivided attention.” She set her glass down and picked her spoon up. “Although it's strange, ever since we ran into your wife at Selfridge's the other day, Reyes seems to be the only thing Sibie wants to talk about.” 

Ben adjusted his hold on his spoon. “Is she six or seven? My wife wasn't certain.” 

“Sibie just turned seven.” She paused. “Children have active imaginations at that age.” She took a drink of wine before she turned away from him and to the gentleman whose name Ben couldn't remember sitting on her other side. 

He ate a little more soup before turning to the woman on his left, Madeline Levinson, whose emotions were fairly bleeding off of her, even if she was keeping a mostly straight face. At two months pregnant, he supposed it was common. But he wasn't about to admit he could tell such things. “Evening.” 

“Evening.” She looked rather flustered; she and Rey had to be close to the same age. “can we talk about something other than politics?” 

He picked up his wine glass. “I never discuss politics over dinner. It's a terrible subject for digestion. And in some cases, the dishes.” He glanced at her, smiling. “Seen any interesting motion pictures lately?” 

Her whole expression changed and her tension seemed to melt away in an instant. “Not as many as I would have liked.” She ducked her head, picking up her water glass. “Harold doesn't enjoy them as much as I do, and I can't find too many people my age who want to go with me.” 

“You could start a little film club.” He took a drink. “I've heard clubs are something Americans seem to like to belong to. Have lunch, see a film, then discuss said film over tea” He set his glass down. “Start it now, and if the world of cinema moves as swiftly as automobiles and aviation, you could have some sort of prestige in having one of the first.” He picked up his spoon. “I'll wager it won't be too much longer before all films cease to be silent, and I doubt color cannot be too much further behind.” 

“Oh, I know it won't.” She made a rather wistful expression as she picked up her soup spoon. “Can you imagine? A full color film with music and speaking?” 

“I daresay I can.” He glanced down the table where Rey was talking with Mr. Branson. “After all, what would our grandfathers say if we told them you could get from Bombay to London in ten days?” 

“Knowing mine, deny me dessert for telling such an unfounded and impossible lie, and send me back to the nursery.” She shook her head. “Although I have a feeling they'd feel more inclined to believe in fast steamships than say, airplanes.” 

“Point.” He remarked, and turned his attention to eating. 

*

After a fortnight of travel, Chirrut was starting to feel rather like cargo himself rather than a person traveling across the globe. He knew he hadn't spoken about the matter with Rose, but the girl was intuitive to know he was worn out; all he wanted to do was take a long walk in the fresh air again, to feel the ground stay in one place under his feet, and reconnect with the Force. He wrapped his hands around his mug of strong coffee, letting the warmth infuse and strengthen him for the last part of their trip.

The ferry wouldn't begin boarding until shortly before dawn; four hours away.

“I feel like luggage too.” Rose spoke more in his mind than out loud, and he chuckled. “Well, it wouldn't do to come all this way and not practice, yes?”

He felt his smile widen. “A valid point, Miss Tico.” He sighed and heard a thump to his left, followed by a curse in German. “Although if we were merely trunks, we would be neither tired or bothered by noise. Tossed about without any care, occasionally bumped by our neighbors, who are just as indifferent as ourselves. ” 

She let out a sigh, and he heard her sip from her own mug of coffee. “I think the train ride from Constantinople to Paris spoiled us.” She coughed. “I may end up sleeping the whole car ride back to Jedha.” 

“I do not blame you there.” He flinched as he heard another bang, followed by a mother scolding her children, and he took a larger sip of coffee, managing a smile. “Three hours across the Channel. A mere walk compared to the rest of this journey.”

“You know, for two people who have come to the other side of the planet, we have a surprisingly small amount of baggage.” Rose giggled. “Two suitcases and two small trunks.” The later had spent the entire journey in the hold or in a baggage compartment. They had put their bags into the trunks when they had claimed them at the train station and were currently sitting on said trunks.

“Quite true.” He lifted his chin as a crying infant slowly fell silent. “Although the greatest weight we carry is one which cannot be seen.” 

“Oh, you can't be too tired, if you're going to be philosophical.” She quipped, and he could feel her mood shift. “I mean...”

“It's quite all right, Padawan Tico. I might say the same, if you are ready with a quick answer.” He smiled. “I believe we'll arrive at Jedha in time for tea.” 

“I once saw what British Tea is like in a hotel in Beijing.” She sighed, wistfully. “There will be sandwiches, cakes, maybe even little meat pies.” She coughed. “Is it all right if I have some of our bread?”

He chuckled. “Of course, child. You're a growing girl and you need to eat.” He took a drink of coffee as he heard the rustle of paper and a crisp sound as she tore off a hunk of the loaf. “I am sorry there is no butter or jam.” 

“It's warm and rather fresh, Professor.” She spoke perfectly in his head; “do you want some?”

“No, thank you, child.” He smiled and took a sip from his mug. “I suspect the Organas will have some food waiting for us in the car when we arrive.” He coughed, shifting on his trunk. “We are all a pretty packet waiting to head out to England, aren't we?”

“This waiting room isn't anything close to full, although it looks as if a typhoon already swept through.” She coughed as a whistle echoed towards them. “There's a huge steamer waiting to depart. I can't read the name from here. It's too dark and too far away. It's probably the reason it's so empty in here.”

“Headed for America, no doubt.” He smiled when he set his mug down and a moment later, found a chunk of bread in his hand. “Trains, buses, cars and boats, we've come too far to change our destination now.” 

“Or even think of going back.” Rose stated. “And the crazy thing is, we went the short way around the planet.” 

“Shì.” He nodded. “The Pacific Ocean does not look so vast until one decides to cross it.” 

“What idiot said the Pacific wasn't huge?” She snickered. “I'd have rather walked to Hong Kong barefoot with a wheelbarrow to push our things than taken a boat all the way to England. Particularly during typhoon and hurricane season.” she cleared her throat. “Okay, maybe not so dramatic, but still...” 

“I understand, Miss Tico. We would most likely only entering the Atlantic, had we taken that road.” He shook his head, taking a bite of bread. “Our current trouble is we are not moving, but having to remain still for the longest time since we waited to board our vessel in Hong Kong and it's rather difficult.”

“I think it would be easier if it wasn't dark outside.” There was a rattle of cup on saucer. “Since we're now counting down hours, instead of days – every hour seems twice as long.” 

“Truth.” He took up his cup again. “This time tomorrow, we shall be asleep at Jedha, and be able to rest fully for the first time since leaving China.” 

“As the Christians say, amen to that.” She chuckled and he joined her as the whistle sounded out again.

Nine hours to go. 

*

After last night's heavy dinner, Rey suffered another bout of heartburn which kept her awake most of the night. She'd merely dozed in bed while Ben slumbered, and she hadn't wanted to wake him up. So she had lain there, propped up against her pillows, stroking his hair and thinking of names for the baby, eliminating some as soon as they came to her, others she mulled over longer. Every time she thought of getting a notebook to write down ideas, she would be hit with a wave of exhaustion and would fall into half-slumber.

After hours of this cycle, she rose at six, and had washed, dressed and finished packing before Ben was up at seven. Their luggage waited behind the porter's desk to be loaded into the car, and they would set out for the station as soon as they were finished with breakfast. The ferry was due in at ten-thirty, and, with luck, they could be on the road to Kent before noon. She kept her focus on her plate of toast and bowl of porridge, not wanting to burden her stomach with anything complicated. 

“I know you didn't sleep, Rey.” Ben glanced at her over his teacup. “And you could have woken me. I wouldn't have minded.” 

“You needed the rest for the drive.” She smiled absently, biting into her toast. “Would you like me to sleep in the car?” 

He returned the smile. “I'm certain Miss Tico and Professor Îmwe won't object. I daresay they'll be tired too.” 

“I've already ordered a basket of food for the journey. I can't imagine there was anything to eat on the ferry, and their train arrived after most shops were closed, no doubt.” She added a little more jam to her porridge. “I'll be able to sleep much better once we get home.” She stilled as he took her hand in his, running his thumb along the back of it. “What?”

“Nothing. I just love hearing you call Jedha home.” His smile brightened. “even though I've heard you use the term before, I don't think I'll ever grow tired of hearing you say it.” He slowly drew his hand back. “I remember telling you that Jedha needed you.” 

She felt her face flush. “What's got you so sentimental this morning?” 

“Nothing.” He leaned against his hand, watching her. “Everything.”

She picked up her teacup. “Eat your eggs, darling, they will keep your hair nice and shiny.” 

He laughed and drew back, picking up his fork. “Yes, dear.” He smirked.

Rey resisted the urge to kick him under the table. Knowing her luck, she'd miss and hit the table instead. “Dinner last night was rather interesting.” She shook her head. “I don't think I'd ever seen, let alone used so many pieces of flatware at a single meal.”

“I was a little shocked too.” He used his toast to help gather eggs on his fork. “You didn't have any trouble determining which fork to use, did you?”

“No. Maz told me weeks ago about what to do in such events, I should start at the outside and work my way in.” She ate a little porridge. “Who'd have thought all those meals starting with beef broth would turn out to be useful in more ways than one?” She had actually spent most of the meal copying whatever implement Mr. Levinson had used, figuring he would know best of the two people she could see clearly. “If that's what the Crawleys call a small dinner, I'd hate to see a large one.” She ate some of her breakfast.

“I'm tempted to think Lady Cora was referring to the number of guests, rather than the meal. Nine courses might be their family's standard for dinner parties.” He set down his toast. “Speaking of, apparently her granddaughter Sibie won't stop talking about you.” 

She blinked in surprise. “Mr. Branson, Tom – told me the same.” She picked up her teacup. “Although it's highly likely I'm the first Force-sensitive she remembers meeting. He didn't ask me if I thought his daughter was Force-sensitive herself, and I didn't offer.” She rubbed her temple. “And yes, he did ask me if I was cheating at gin rummy years ago.” 

Ben chuckled, shaking his head. “I'm afraid there will be a great deal more questions and formal dinners for us to attend as we reopen Jedha.” He frowned. “Mr. Barrow wasn't there, was he?”

She smirked over her teacup. “No. You would have known if he was.” She took a drink, then pushed her porridge away, picking up the toast. It was the only thing she could think of eating. The porridge had sounded good when she looked at it on the menu, now eating it seemed as hard and impossible as eating the river Thames.

“Are you feeling all right, Reyes?” He frowned, his Force-signature brushing against hers. He was worried about her; again.

“Heartburn and lack of sleep.” She answered, “I'll be fine once we get home.” She bit into the bread, resting her hand on the underside of her belly. “I also think I ate a little too much last night.” 

“You and me both.” He ate his last bite of eggs, “I can't remember the time I had curried potato soup. I may have speak with Maz about adding it to our menu.” His expression shifted. “It was my father's favorite – it was what we had the last night before I left India.”

She squeezed his knee under the table. “It was excellent, I'd never had it before.” She smiled, watching his expression soften. “Yes, I sent a thank you to Lady Cora for the meal. It's leaving in the post today.”

He chuckled as he picked up a slice of bacon. “Sass.” 

She smiled and ate a little more toast, remembering the name she had thought of sometime between two and three last night. “What do you think of Jelena Padme?” 

“Pardon me?” He frowned as he wiped his fingers with a napkin. “Who are you talking about?”

She shook her head, reaching for her teacup. “as a name, Ben. For the baby.” 

“Jelena....” He lifted his chin, smiling. “As in a feminine form of Galen, after your grandfather – and Padme, after my grandmother?” 

“Yes.” She smiled. “Or have you thought of any names?” 

“Trouble is every name I think over, I immediately match with either someone I know, or a fictional character.” Despite the fact they were in the hotel dining room, he reached over and placed his hand on her stomach, resting it flat against the curved surface. “What do you think, Dragonfly?”

Rey felt the baby kick against where Ben's hand was and he pulled his hand away quickly, shaking it in mock pain. “Sweetie, be nice to your daddy.” She gently admonished towards her belly. 

“Kick that hard, it won't matter what her name is, she'll punch anyone who laughs at it.” He grinned and picked up his fork. 

She shook her head and reached for another slice of toast from the basket. “Reminds me, what do you think of using the room across from ours for the nursery? Close enough for us to reach it quickly, far enough from the next nearest occupied room it won't disturb them.”

“It could work. I have no idea where the nursery at Jedha was originally located.” He snickered. “Since the last known occupant left it at age eight and can't remember either.” 

“It's most likely been turned into something else by now anyway.” She spread butter and jam over her bread, feeling a little of the soreness and tension ease out of her. “We still have some time. Perhaps Maz knows.” 

“Maz knows everything.” Ben snickered, and turned his attention to his food. “Still, I like the idea of having the nursery near our room. It's most likely going to be a matter of moving furniture and airing the room in question out. I'll talk to her tomorrow. The way time moves these days, November could be here at the end of next week, and January before we've even noticed the season's changed.” 

*

Rose settled into the front seat of the car, glancing back at the Professor and Mrs. Organa, who both looked ready to fall asleep on their feet. When the woman had asked if she wanted to ride in the front, she'd fairly jumped into the car. Sitting in the front was something she'd _never_ done. Her own exhaustion at the journey had vanished shortly after the ferry docked, and she realized the trip was practically done. She took a bite of the sandwich from the basket the Organas had brought as the driver's side door opened and Mr. Organa – Professor Organa, she told herself, got inside. 

“We have everything?” He gave her a worn smile, then looked behind him. “Rey, Professor?” 

“I would like to sleep now.” Professor Îmwe answered, his eyes already closed. “Please wake me when we arrive, Padawan Tico.” 

“I will.” She replied, glancing at the other man, keeping her voice low. “He hasn't slept since somewhere between Paris and Rouen.” 

“How about you, kiddo?” He scanned the rear seat once more and Rose looked back again, and she could see Mrs. Organa was nearly asleep as well. “They're both tired, I guess.” 

“Yes, sir.” She ate a small bite of her sandwich. “Even though I'm bone tired, I'm too excited to try and rest.” She took a larger bite. 

“I understand. And you don't need to call me sir. Mr. or Professor Organa is fine. In fact, if you want, you can simply call me Mr. Ben.” He started the car and a moment later, they pulled away from the station. “Fortunately, most of the traffic will be going into London, rather than out of it.” The crowds outside seemed indifferent to their passing, everyone going about their business. “Now, if you and Professor Îmwe both want to go to bed straight after tea, it won't be a problem, considering how far you've come. We'll send you both up a dinner tray around eight.” 

She smiled, holding onto the dashboard as they went around a turn. “I've actually been thinking about a proper British tea since breakfast time yesterday. I've never been to one, but I once saw waiters setting up for one through the windows of a fancy hotel in Beijing.” She finished her sandwich half. 

“Hopefully, the pleasant weather will hold for a week or two as you settle in.” He gave her a sideways look. “Yes, I know I'm tall.” 

Rose went pink. “I'm sorry, I'm still trying not to think so loudly.” She paused, wondering how he knew what she'd been thinking, particularly since it hadn't been in English. “Do you know Mandarin?” 

“No, kiddo.'He's so damn tall' tends to be most people's first thought when they see me.” He smiled and eased the car onto a busier street. “Either it's about my height, or what happened to my face.” 

She quickly averted her eyes, knowing her own second thought had been about the scar on his cheek. “Sorry.” 

“Don't be. I've gotten used to it.” He shook his head. “Let me guess, people tell you to hold your tongue and to not think so loudly.” 

“Mostly.” She turned towards the backseat, holding her hand over the basket and a moment later, an apple shot into her grip. “It's okay to do that, right?”

He snickered. “How long have you been fighting the urge to Force-pull things towards you out of convenience?” 

She settled back down. “Since we boarded the train to Hong Kong.” She bit into the green fruit with a loud crunch. “Professor Chen calls such things 'a precious waste of the Force.'” 

“Professor Chen sounds terribly stuffy and demanding.” Ben's smile widened. “Or the Chinese equivalent of the late Master Kenobi. According to my uncle, there has never been a Jedi so devoted to the rule book as he was.” His grip on the wheel tightened as they swerved past several cars and onto a thoroughfare. “Calling an apple to your hand isn't a precious waste of the Force, by standards, it should be as simple and as common as reciting one's alphabet, or a times table.” 

“The Force isn't something limited, all life feeds it.” She took another bite of apple; the tart taste was wonderful in her mouth. She gazed out the window at the passing buildings, and, even though she was in a city, it seemed less crowded than ones she'd observed on the way here. 

“There have been Force-sensitives on Earth almost as long as history has been recorded, and we still don't know how it all works.” the man answered, turning down another road. “It's not even definite if it runs in families or not.”

“Don't I know it. I'm the only person in my family ever whose shown any aptitude.” she kept her focus on her apple. From what her elder sisters had told her, their mother had been hysterical when her abilities manifested, although no one had ever told her what happened to reveal said powers. “If there were any before, they most likely didn't survive infancy.”

“Given the number of floods and other natural disasters China is notorious for, it's a distinct possibility.” He cursed under his breath as he hit the breaks hard and somewhere in front of them a horn blared. “Has everyone in London forgotten how to drive?”

She laughed, “Don't ask me, I've only been in the country two hours.” She saw the start of a grin on his face. “At least you don't have to worry about livestock running up and down the street.” 

“Not in the city.” They started to move forward again, a little quicker than before, and he shook his head, chuckling. “Although it'll be mostly sheep and not cows. Since it's summer, it's not as likely as it would be during the spring or autumn.”

“Sheep have shepherds and dogs who move them along quickly. Some people have ox driven carts and oxen don't always do what you want them to.” she took another bite of apple as the traffic started to clear and before she was even finished with her fruit, the city was behind them, leaving nothing but an open road to the north ahead.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sunny first morning at Jedha for Rose and Chirrut. Finn's still adjusting, Rey and Rose bond.

Ben was not surprised when neither Professor Îmwe or Miss Tico came downstairs for dinner. Given the distance and the relentless of travel, he wouldn't blame either of them if they remained abed tomorrow as well. It was almost a relief, in a way. They were all spared a formal meal after the car ride, and if it hadn't been for the coffee, he was fairly certain he would have fallen asleep at the table himself. He tucked his shoes back into the row with the others “Are you feeling all right?” 

“I feel like I should be the one asking.” Rey paused in the doorway, before entering the dressing closet and setting her own pair of shoes on her side. “I'm the one who had a nap in the car.” 

He closed the distance between them, kissing the top of her head. “Nothing a good night's sleep won't fix.” He lifted up her hair and placed a kiss to the back of her neck before undoing the button at the top of her frock, then pulled down the zipper. “There you are.” 

“Thank you.” She smiled as she stepped out of the dress, and carefully hung it up. “What did you and Rose talk about on the drive?” 

Ben looked away as she changed out of her slip and focused on the buttons of his shirt. “I would say Miss Tico provided most of the conversation. Covering topics from food to her wanting to find a book on English customs so she can better understand her new home.” He finished with his shirt and set it aside. 

“I'm certain there's one or twenty in the library.” She quipped, laughing then let out a groan. “Oh, sweetie, it's bedtime.” He turned to see her rubbing her stomach and she gave him a worn smile. “Maybe she's simply trying to get comfortable.” She tugged on her pajama top, looking down at her middle. “Though I can't imagine she doesn't have enough room. According to what I've read, she's about the size of a pear.” She adjusted the closure of the pants and hiccuped. “Excuse me.” 

He shook his head, smiling. “It's perfectly fine.” He stepped aside as she went to the door. “I'll be out in a minute.” He brushed the back of his fingers against her belly. “Maybe she's telling you to sit down in the only way she can right now.” 

She snickered as she headed into the bedroom. “Lord help me,you're going to get more and more fussy the closer we get to January, aren't you?” She laughed as he finished changing into his pajamas.

“Me, fussy? Certainly you must have me confused with my uncle.” He turned out the light in the dressing closet as he came out into the room, watching as Rey sat down at her vanity table. “Does it bother you?” He came and sat down on the low bench, gently removing her hairpins. “Let me do this.” 

She smiled over her shoulder at him and closed her eyes as he carefully untangled a curl. “It's merely been a long time since I had someone do it, Ben.” She hiccuped again, setting a hand on her stomach. “You get used to taking care of yourself, and when someone else starts to do it, your mind needs to adjust.” 

He set the pins down in a shallow dish on the vanity and picked up her hairbrush. “I think you know you're the only person I'm fussy about. I can't help it when it comes to you.” He ran the brush through her hair, smoothing it down with his other hand. “Does it bother you?” He traced her ear with his index finger.

“No.” She looked back at him again. “It's sort of nice to be fussed over.” She tilted her head forward as he worked through a tangle. “You know Ben, if you wanted to brush my hair at night, you can ask me.” 

He chuckled, kissing the side of her neck. “Trouble is, I usually catch you at it when I get back to our room, rather than the two of us being here at the same time.”

“Only because you, Finn and Uncle Luke talk who knows what in the dining room after dinner. Although now with Rose here, at least I don't have to sit in the drawing room alone, or simply head up to bed .” She chuckled. “What _do_ you talk about over coffee?, since I know you three aren't smoking.” 

“Nothing important. Honestly, I think it'd be better if we all went into the drawing room for coffee after dinner, let the staff get things finished at a reasonable hour.” He parted her hair, running the brush through each section to make sure it was free of tangles. “It was different before the War- then again, everything was different at the start of the century.” 

“My father always said the War woke everyone up. So many people lived in a dream, or remained in a rut, and now...” She sighed. “I'm certain you know what I mean. Proof enough is in this house.” She smothered an odd noise. “Although I do remember Uncle Luke failing to tell Minister Hux Professor Îmwe is blind.” 

“Professor Îmwe is a brilliant scholar.” He set the brush down and began to work her hair into a braid. “Although from what Rose tells me, he tends to speak in riddles a little too much for her taste.”

“Can you blame her? She's little girl who has come halfway around the world, left everything she knew for a second time and had to keep smiling the entire way here.” She chuckled. “I'm going to go with she's grumpy and sick of traveling. Give her a few days.” Her shoulders fell. “I'll show her around tomorrow. Some fresh air will do the both of us a world of good.” 

“Taking a wild guess, but calling Rose a little girl might not be a good idea.” He shrugged. “Although, she didn't mind being called kiddo.” He attached a fastener to the end of the braid. “Not as neat as I would have liked it, but it works.” 

She chuckled and ran a hand along the back of her head. “You simply need practice.” She turned and kissed his chin. “Thank you.” 

“You're welcome.” He set his lips against her forehead. “Coffee or no, I'm in need of some rest. I always forget how rough the drive is from London to here.” He got to his feet and went over to the bed, turning down the covers. “Though you slept most of the way.” 

“It wasn't particularly decent sleep.” She went over to her side of the bed, pulling back the blankets as well. “I'd be almost ready to go over the edge of true rest when we'd hit a bump.” She turned on her bedside lamp and then went over to the door, shutting off the main light. “Fitful at best. Not to mention Professor Îmwe snores terribly. If you have a tendency to sound like a bear, he's a train full of bears. ” 

He laughed and climbed into bed. “If he's as loud as you say, no wonder Miss Tico is exhausted, having to be in a narrow little cabin listening to him for two weeks solid.” He held the bedclothes up as she climbed under them. “Although it might be the location he was sleeping in. The backseat of a car isn't comfortable for anyone trying to sleep.” 

She took off her rings, setting them in the dish on her bedside table. “I don't think motor companies had sleep in mind when they designed them.” 

“Likely they never will.” He set his wedding ring on his own table, next to the alarm clock. “I have to meet with Poe tomorrow. With autumn approaching the orchards will soon need to be harvested.” the room went dark as Rey turned out her lamp and he held up his arm so she could curl up against him. “Comfortable?” 

She shifted slightly so her leg was over his, her arm was draped over his middle and her head resting on his collarbone. “I am now, you?” 

He smiled, closing his eyes as he put his other arm over her, brushing her cheek with his thumb. “Perfect. Good night, Rey.”

“Good night...” she hiccuped, “Ben.” She coughed and another hiccup escaped her. “Sorry.” 

He chuckled and moved his hand down to rub her lower back in slow circles. “Not your fault. Better out than in.” He pressed his lips against her forehead. 

“I'll take hiccups over heartburn.” She mumbled, “and for me to have them instead of the baby.”

“I know, love.” He hugged her gently, letting himself relax. “I know.” 

*

Rose stretched under the covers with no idea of what time it was. After teatime, she had Professor Îmwe had gone upstairs, and, once she had given herself a short bath, climbed into bed and fallen asleep. It had been around half past five then. Yawning, she sat up, frowning as she took in the room she was in. All she could currently see was an ornate mantle facing her with a painting of the ocean above it, along with a comfortable looking chair and a small table. Sunlight was pouring into the room from somewhere to her right. She rubbed at her eyes, rising up to her knees and pulling the curtains around the bed aside. 

She blinked several times until she could make out the large uncovered window and she hooked the fabric around the loop on the headboard before moving to do the same on the other side of the bed. Now she could see it properly, she was stunned. The bed was practically an island in a chamber twice the size of any master's room back at the Imperial School.

“Was the room this big when I came in here yesterday?” She lowered herself to the floor, struggling to remember what she'd seen last afternoon. She'd been so tired then, ready to fall asleep on the stairs – however many of them she had climbed.

The walls were light green, with some sort of little yellow flower motif. There was a vanity set under the window, and a writing desk was against the wall nearer to the door, along with a wardrobe, and a dressing screen next to it. The rug under her feet was soft, worked in shades of green and yellow. She pushed her hair from her face and went over to inspect the tray she saw on the table before the empty hearth. 

There was a small pot of tea, still warm, a cup upside down in its saucer, along with a few sugar cubes, a slice of lemon, and a tiny pitcher of milk, all ready and waiting – and her stomach rumbled. “Welcome to British Customs, one oh one, Padawan Tico.” She fixed her cup of tea and walked over to the window, feeling rather indulgent in her behavior. In China, only the masters ever had tea brought to their chambers. 

Her view was of the front lawn, and she could see someone walking up the drive, but at this height, she couldn't make out details, other than dark hair. Off to her left, she could see a massive cedar tree, and she had to turn her head to the side to the see the top of it. “I wonder if I'm the last one awake.” she took a drink, and jumped slightly when she heard a knock on the door. “Uh...” She put the cup down and started across the room as the door opened. 

“Oh, pardon me, I wasn't certain if you were awake or not.” Rey leaned part-way into the room. She was wearing a pale blue dress and her hair was loosely gathered at the back of her neck. “Good morning.” 

“Good morning.” She rubbed her nose. “You can come in.” 

“Thank you.” She slipped into the room, shutting the door behind her as Rose went to retrieve her cup. “It's a little after eight.”

“So late?” She frowned. “I'm sorry, I...” she covered her eyes. “So much to get used to.” 

“It's perfectly fine, Rose.” The woman smiled, and she looked up as she felt the woman's hand on her arm. “You've come quite the distance and this was a long overdue good-night's sleep, right?”

She nodded, managing to return the smile. “I didn't mean to miss dinner.” She felt her cheeks flush as her stomach rumbled. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for, Rose.” She answered, smiling warmly. “I came down here to check on you before I went down to breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” The idea of food made her stomach rumble. “Wait here.” She went over to her carpetbag, looking perplexed as she opened it. “Where are my...”

“Wardrobe.” The woman pointed it out. “I believe most of it might be in the laundry, however.”

“Thank you.” she took her cup across the room and set it on the small table between the wardrobe and dressing screen. “I didn't mean to sleep so late.” she pulled a frock and a set of under-linen from the cupboard and went behind the screen. “Is Professor Îmwe awake?” 

“I wouldn't know, I haven't been downstairs yet.” She answered, “and really, given the distance you've come, sleeping the clock round is not surprising. I slept ten hours myself on my first night here.”

Rose grinned as she changed out of her pajamas. “Not being in something moving while trying to sleep alone was wonderful. Also not being in an enclosed space with dozens to hundreds of other people helps.” She heard her moving closer to the window. “How long have you been at Jedha, Mrs. Organa?”

“Since shortly after Ben and I were married, and please, call me Rey.” There was a soft thump. “I wasn't certain if you would like this room or not. I thought it was rather cheerful when I looked into it. The telegram we received didn't tell us much about you other than your name.” 

“It's perfect!” She reached over and took a hearty gulp of tea before continuing. “Although I don't remember much of coming upstairs yesterday afternoon. I was too tired.”

“I completely understand.” She answered. “I suspect after breakfast, you'll want to look around the house.”

“I'd love to go for a walk outside first.” Rose finished dressing and came out from around the screen, going over to the vanity. “Fresh air is something I haven't gotten much of – not since we were on the boat from Hong Kong to Constantinople.” She ran her brush through her hair, then pulled it back in a style similar to the woman's. “I don't think I want to get on a ship, a train or a car and travel any distance any time soon.”

Rey gave her a smile. “I don't think you'll have to, although the nearest town is quite the walk. But I believe there are several bicycles in the gatehouse garage.” 

She grinned. “Might be fun.” Her expression fell as she stood, looking around the room.

“What's wrong?” 

“Sounds like there's a dragonfly in here.” She looked back at Rey, then her eyes widened as she noticed something she'd failed to the other day; the woman was pregnant. “I'm sorry!”

Rey shook her head, setting a hand on her arm, but Rose knew she was unsettled about what she'd said. “You were tired.” She smiled, “why don't you put your shoes and socks on and we can go downstairs and eat.” 

She nodded and retrieved the items, sitting in her chair to put them on. “I had an airplane in my bag.” 

The older woman crossed to where the bag was resting and opened it. “Still here.” She drew it out, smiling, then looked at her seriously. “Your brother gave it to you before you went to the Imperial School.” 

“Father would have gotten rid of it, somehow.” she focused on her shoes as Rey crossed the room and from the corner of her eye, saw the woman the plane on the mantle. “I haven't seen my family in three years. I don't know if I'll ever see them again. Professor Chen told me I was never going to return to China.” 

“Do you believe him?” Rey asked as she stood and the two of them went out into the hallway. “Professor Chen?”

“For now, I do.” She hugged herself, trying to center herself as they reached the stairs. “Wow.” she looked around at her surroundings. “I'm sort of glad I don't remember coming upstairs, because this is incredible.” 

“You can gawk later, Padawan Tico, now it is time to eat.” Professor Îmwe's voice came from the floor below them. “And I can manage the stairs on my own, Padawan Stover.” 

“Yes, sir.” A man's voice, sounding slightly cowed, answered.

Rey covered a snicker. “It's Finn's own fault. He's the one who volunteered to help the professor last night at dinner.” 

“I heard you, Padawan Andor!” the professor called again.

They started down the stairs, Rose biting back a laugh as her stomach rumbled again. “The professor has recovered his personality. I was worried he lost it somewhere between here and India.”

*

Finn wasn't exactly certain why he'd volunteered to help the new professor last night. It was pretty obvious as they all ate breakfast the man needed next to no help. Least of all from him. He glanced across the table towards Rose, who was studying the artwork on the wall behind him more than she was paying attention to anything else. She'd already finished an entire plate of eggs and potatoes, and was now working on toast and bacon. He couldn't find fault with it, exactly. She was a kid, kids ate a lot. He ate a lot. Besides, she'd not had any dinner and it'd be more shocking if she wasn't eating.

“You're thinking too loudly again, Finn.” Rey stated from his left, her eyes never leaving the letter she was reading. “It's breakfast, not a formal dinner.”

“Formal dinners are more trouble than they're worth.” He replied, cutting his stewed tomato in half. “We don't have any of those any time soon, do we?” 

“Since when do we have casual dinners in this house?” Ben interjected. “I, for one, would love to stop having to change clothes for a meal at the end of the day.” 

“Not happening.” Luke chuckled. “It's not as if we are compelled to wear white tie every night.” 

Rose wrinkled her nose. “What's white tie?” 

“Uncomfortably formal, Padawan Tico.” Professor Îmwe said. “The sort of meal, ten years ago, you would not be allowed to take part in.” 

Rey snickered. “Let us be honest, professor. There are only two people sitting at this table who would be welcome at such an event in any other house a decade ago.” She set her letter down. “However, the table would not be so blessed with such a variety of food.” 

“True.” Ben remarked before draining the last of his tea. “I have a few things to get done this morning.” He stood and kissed Rey on the cheek. “Professor, Uncle.” He shot a look at him. “Padawan Stover.” He snickered and Finn felt his cheeks go hot. 

“Be nice.” Rey admonished, stacking up her letters as Ben walked out of the room. “Honestly, what is he putting in his tea?” 

“It's a vast improvement over how he was a year ago.” Luke stated, setting down his napkin. “I have some letters to write.” He rose to his feet and left. 

Rose set down her teacup. “Is there a white tie dinner any time soon?” 

“I would say it depends on when the next birthday is. Mine was April, Master Luke's was May, Ben's isn't until November.” Finn sliced a tomato half into another half.

“Mine was in June.” she answered. “Professor Îmwe?” 

“January.” He smiled, rather brightly. “I will be sixty.” 

“September sixteenth.” Rey offered, gathering up her letters. “I'm going to run these upstairs.” 

The wave of nervousness coming from Rose nearly bowled Finn from his chair. “I'll come with you, if that's all right.”

“Of course. Have to get the exercise in before it's too hot outside.” she answered as he and the Professor stood as the two ladies left the table.

The older man sat down first and Finn ate some of his tomato, glancing across the table at the remaining diner, who ate slowly and deliberately, and he tried not to stare as the man used his spoon to put things on his fork. He looked back at his own plate; being practically alone with him was a little unnerving. 

“Is it my blindness which causes you to be uncomfortable, Finn?” His voice was perfectly placid. Far more cam and collected than he'd ever heard Skywalker speak. “Or is it something more?” 

“I don't want to be rude.” He kept his gaze on his plate as he ate another tomato quarter. 

“I have borne stares from dozens of people these past two weeks. On trains, in China. Boats in the Indian Ocean, and passengers whose languages I did not know as Miss Tico and I came through the Continent.” He set his spoon down and took a drink of tea. “This did not bother me. People will always stare.” 

“It's not polite.” He glanced over as the man put the cup down. “And...”

“And you know I know you're watching.” He put his fork down. “I am not offended, Finn. I have felt more eyes on me in my life than is my due.” He grinned faintly. “The Emperor, if he knew, would be jealous. You did not know I was blind until my arrival.” 

“No.” He wiped his mouth, his appetite almost completely gone. “I want to apologize, if I..”

“There is nothing to apologize for, Mr. Stover. We are the products of how we are raised.” He picked up his teacup. “We are all blind in one way or another. I am merely more visibly blind. It allows me to shut out things others might consider distracting, or even, by society's measures, wrong.” He took a drink of tea. 

“Are you sure you didn't come here to be Skywalker's teacher?” He blurted and the man's face broke into a grin. 

“No one ever stops learning, Finn. Even an old man like myself still has much to learn in this world.” He wiped his mouth. “Are you finished eating?” 

He pushed his plate away, nodding. “Yes, have you?”

“I am, thank you.” He rose to his feet, taking up the walking stick he had left leaning against the table next to him. “I will be fine in this house, once I know my way around.” He smiled. “A walk indoors is an order. You can save your reading for this afternoon.” 

He resisted the urge to laugh as he also stood. “It doesn't matter if I finish a book today or not. My list will grow regardless.” They went out into the hall. “Where would you like to start?” 

“Counting steps from here.” He indicated the doorway. “To the stairs. Then upwards.” 

“Right.” He paused. “Do you want to stop in the drawing room on the way?” 

“No. I must learn the most traveled road first. Then I will find other paths.” He started forward, counting softly in Mandarin, and Finn followed after him.

*

The morning was glorious. There was no other word for it. As Rey and Rose made their way down the far side of the house towards the gardens, it was almost hard to believe it was still August, and not September. Given the number of airless days there had been so far this summer, the bright day with a slight breeze almost let one forget it was the hottest time of the year. The windows gleamed faintly as they passed, and it was almost exactly like the dreams Rey used to have about being here at Jedha. 

“I love all the green.” Rose's voice cut into her thoughts. “The Imperial School is in the middle of Beijing.” She sighed. “Nothing to see but rooftops from the windows.” 

“Sounds terribly busy.” Rey answered as they went down a small flight of stone steps. “But I do understand about the green.” She brushed her hand against the leaves of a dogwood tree. “There wasn't much green to be found when I lived in Epsom.” She sighed. “I sometimes feel sad, having such a big yard and garden when others have next to nothing in terms of parkland.” 

The girl tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, only to have it fall right back to where it was. “I grew up on my parents' tea plantation. I can't remember it not being green there.” She sighed. “Even though I know it can't have been so.” 

“How long were you at the Imperial School?” They turned down a path, heading for the rose garden. 

“Since I was ten.” She smiled sheepishly. “First thing upon my arrival, they took me to the infirmary and unbound my feet.” 

Rey blinked, wondering if she had heard the girl correctly. “What do you mean, unbound your feet?” 

“My parents started binding I and my sisters' feet when we were six. Having little feet it's...” She looked away, towards her shoes. “It's a cultural thing.” 

“Sounds rather like it requires your feet getting broken repeatedly.” She shuddered, setting a hand on her throat. “I don't mean to sound patronizing, but certainly such an act is cruel and outdated.”

“I almost cried with relief when they took the bandages off.” Rose smiled. “They told me the damage wasn't as bad as it could have been.” She held up her left foot; her shoes were smaller and narrower than her own. “Sometimes, though, they still hurt. A ghosting of pain runs through my toes and I have to take my shoes off to make sure they aren't crushed.” 

Rey shivered at the mere idea of what the poor girl's feet must have looked like after being broken repeatedly for four years. “Is it typical of all girls in China to have bound feet?”

“It's only done now in certain areas. Most families have stopped the practice, claiming it's outdated and an Imperial tradition. Not something a modern nation should be doing.” She stopped as they reached the gardens, and touched one of the blooms. “My parents handed me over to the Imperial School so they wouldn't have to burdened with three dowries. They would never answer my letters, and I stopped writing them when I was twelve.” 

She set a hand on the girl's back, rubbing the spot slowly. “I'm sorry.” 

“I can't explain it exactly right. It's a cultural way of thought. When I went away, it was like I was dead to them.” She fished a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her face. “My brother wrote me once, two years ago. My last letter came from an aunt, nine months ago when my sister Paige was married.” She steeled herself up. “So here I am, on the other side of the world, starting a new life, again.”

“I'm certain they are proud of you, Rose. Even if they can't say it.” She pulled her hand back and they started walking again. “Did you see anything interesting on your way here?” She made her tone light; wanting to bring the conversation to something easier than the past. If there was one thing everyone here had in common, it was not talking about the past. 

“They wouldn't let us on deck when we went through the Suez Canal.” Rose kicked a rock in the path. “I saw the Gateway to India from the rail when we stopped in Bombay.” Her smile returned, her face brightening. “It was dark when we boarded the train in Constantinople, but when I woke up and looked out the window, we were in the _mountains_.” 

Rey set a hand against her chest, rubbing it absently. Wretched heartburn. “I've only seen pictures of the Carpathian range.” 

“There was already snow on some of them!” She grinned. “Snow, in the summer!” She spun on her foot. “Are you feeling all right?”

“I'm perfectly well. I don't think the baby enjoyed breakfast as much as I did.” she shook her head. “It's nothing.” 

Rose gave her an odd look. “You're not mad at me, are you? About earlier. I didn't mean to call the baby a dragonfly.” 

“It's fine, Rose.” She did her best to keep her face neutral. “You were tired yesterday and...”

“It's not the first time you've heard the baby called Dragonfly.” She blinked, tilting her head to the side. “You're trying to hide it, but you know I'm right.” 

Rey hiccuped and sat down on the nearby bench. She and Ben hadn't discussed the dreams with anyone other than themselves. Not in any detail. “Rose...”

She sat down next to her, taking her hand in both of hers. “I've been too forward, and I'm sorry...” 

“No, no...” She set her free hand on her chest. She would take another month of nausea over this almost daily heartburn. “It's fine, Rose.” She looked out across the flowerbed in front of them, trying to center herself. “And you're correct about the name Dragonfly.” 

Rose pulled her hands back, folding them in her lap. “You don't have to tell me. I've been speaking without thinking again.” 

She let out a laugh. “No, no... I confess, I did wonder a time or two where the nickname came from.” She reached over and pushed the loose hair behind the girl's ear. “I won't say the Force works in mysterious ways if you won't.” She fished her own handkerchief out of her pocket and pressed it against her mouth.

She went even pinker, clearly trying to repress a laugh. “Mrs. Organa...” She let out a giggle. “I'm so happy to know I'm not the only one who thinks that phrase is horrible, regardless of situation.” She wrinkled her nose, still chuckling. “Or it's counterpart, 'all is as the Force wills it.'” 

“Keeping the Force separate from religion is another headache all together.” She twisted her handkerchief in her fingers before stuffing it back into her pocket. “I don't think there's ever a situation where you can use the the Will of God or the Will of the Force. Good or bad.” 

The girl have her a look. “I don't know much about God, but if it's anything like spending ten years of my life being told the importance of luck and then arriving at the Imperial School and being told there's no such thing as luck, I sort of understand.” She coughed into her sleeve. “Could we change the subject?” She hopped up to her feet and spun on the walk, smiling. “I read in a paper the Americans have found a way to capture sound for the moving pictures!”

“They have.” Rey stood and they started down the path. “I saw one of them while I was in London. Remarkable.” She grinned. “Now, if they can put sound to the films, full color cannot be too far behind.” 

*

Three hundred and sixty four steps from the door of his room to his seat at the dining room table. Forty-six of them on the staircase, with four on the landing. Fifty six steps from his chair to the easy chair in the drawing room. The drawing room was seventy steps long and forty wide. Chirrut had not counted the steps from the dining room to the library. It had, however, been fifty steps down from the side door to the bench he was currently sitting on, the sunlight warm and welcoming. 

He could hear Rose and Rey laughing in gardens, their voices carried to him by the wind and he straightened as he heard the crunch of gravel under someone's feet. “Did you decide you wanted some fresh air as well, Padawan Stover?” 

“I've told you, Professor Îmwe, it's Finn.” The young man sounded disgruntled and there was a groan as he sat down. “Padawan Stover makes me feel like a kid.” 

“You are not a child.” He smiled, leaning against his staff. “As the passage of time attests, but all of us retain something of our youth, no matter our age.”

“Some of us have to grow up too fast.” He stated, and let out a breath. “I thought it was too nice of a morning to spend it indoors.” 

“There will be no rain today.” He intoned. “The air isn't right for it. After sunset, however...”

“It has been raining at night for a while.” Finn cleared his throat. “Not always storms, though.”

“Storms rage all the time.” He took a breath, centering himself. “Never-ending and destructive.” 

“I see you are a master of metaphors.” He snickered. “Don't let Professor Skywalker know, he might challenge you to a duel of words.” 

“Words are sharper than any sword.” He smiled. “You and I both know what it is to be judged by how we appear.”

“Have you always been blind?” the words fell in a hurry, and he sensed the man's embarrassment instantly. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't...”

“No, it is fine. It is only natural to be curious.” He turned his head to face Finn. “Yes. I was born blind and lived with my parents until I was five. When my younger brother was born.” 

He cleared his throat. “And you've been at the Imperial School ever since then?” 

“Yes.” He smiled. “I do not know what has become my birth family. The Imperial Jedi Order has long since become my family. Now I am here, and once more, joining a new family, at my age.” His happy expression fell, the memory and weight of all he had left behind him settling over his shoulders with all the power of a wave. “And I have mourned many friends. Some of them, more special than others.” 

Finn was silent for a moment; his emotions tense and then, it was calm. “What was his name?” 

Chirrut smiled. “Baze.” he chuckled, and he could almost hear the man's voice, with some sarcastic remark. “He was not sensitive to the Force, but he lived at the Imperial School as a liaison between us and the rest of the world outside our walls.”

“I'm sorry for your loss.” He took a breath. “He must have been an exceptional friend.” 

“He was.” He closed his eyes. “He is, no doubt, in the great beyond utterly amused I have gone all the way to the other side of the world, with a spitfire padawan and have not let my spirits be dampened by anything.” He smiled. “The Force will always return things you find yourself losing. Although not always in the way you expect.”

“Lose one family, gain another.” He sighed. “Although I still have living relatives I can correspond with. Rey can as well, but mine are in the same country, hers are across the ocean.” 

He shook his head, “Too many Orders have insisted on severing all ties. This practice is our undoing and Jedha has already begun the process of ending it.”

“What will come will come.” He chuckled. “Whether we're ready or not.”

Chirrut grinned. “Scores of padawans I have taught and known well. This is why I requested Padawan Tico accompany me to England. Not only for her proficiency in this nation's language. No other student at the Imperial School is ready to face what is coming for the world. We have much to prepare for, Finn Stover.”

“So I'm right about Miss Rose being far more dangerous than she appears?” He chuckled. “I'll do my best to stay on her good side then.” 

“All Miss Tico requires and wants from anyone is honesty.” He rested his chin against the head of his walking stick, smiling when the laughter from the garden reached them. “And I believe she has found a good friend in Mrs. Organa.” 

“They both need the friendship.” Finn coughed. “She'd never say it, but I think there might have been a few too many boys in the house for Reyes.” 

Chirrut shook his head, laughing. “Very astute of you, Finn.” He smiled as the wind rustled past them, bringing with it the scent of gardenias. “We should take a walk ourselves, before the day turns hot.” 

“Do you want to count steps?” There as a crunch of gravel as he stood.

“No.” He rose to his own feet, grasping his staff in his hand. “One turn around the entire house should be sufficient.” He stepped onto the path and started walking away from where he could sense Rey and Rose. “You can tell me about Mr. Dameron without fear as we go along the way.”

“How did....” Finn chuckled, “you don't need to give me an answer I already know.” 

“Your heartbeat quickened when Ben Organa mentioned seeing him today.” He smiled as they began to walk. “I do not think Rose noticed, as she was more interested in eating. She is, from what I can tell, the only one in the household who is unaware.” He chuckled. “Do not fear her judgment, Finn. Force only knows what she heard me say in my sleep on our way here.”


	12. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue - February 29, 1928

Ben estimated he might have walked a trench into the floor of the drawing room if Finn hadn't made him sit down shortly after two in the morning. When Rey's labor began before dinner last night, he'd remained remarkably calm; now, seven hours later, he was a wreck. The doctors never quite pinned down a due date for Jelena, they kept pushing it further away from the middle of February and towards the end. 

A little math work told him Rey had most likely conceived on the last night they were in Milan – a night that felt both a lifetime ago and only yesterday. 

The wan morning light was skirting across the floor and he could hear the soft clink of dishes as the staff prepared the dining room for breakfast. He glanced over at Finn, who slept curled in one of the chairs and at his uncle and Professor Îmwe, asleep on opposite sides of the same couch. They all looked perfectly ridiculous; none of them were dressed for the same time of day. He himself hadn't done more than shed his dinner jacket since the doctor arrived. He ran a hand through his hair, loathing the fact he was down here and unable to stay with his wife during labor; he envied Rose in that regard; but at the same time, he could imagine Rey calling him some particularly colorful names. 

Rising from his chair, Ben picked up his dinner jacket and slipped out of the drawing room. He'd sat here far too long and he could pace in the hallway or the recently finished nursery as easily as he could downstairs.

It might actually help if he was closer to Rey; he felt cut off from her and the baby. 

He pulled his dinner jacket back on as he made his way up the stairs; the hallway cold in the early winter morning, and he paused at the window, looking out to see it had started snowing some time ago, judging from the accumulation on the doctor's car parked in the drive. As he watched, a heavily bundled footman came out with a broom and began to sweep the snow from the vehicle. Shivering,he turned and finished the ascent.

While they had known the babe was a girl, usually the greatest wonder already removed for the expectant parents, a great deal of other questions filled the void. The only thing he and Rey hoped for was healthy. In this world, health should come first in regards to newborns. Girl, boy – everything else was insignificant. So few people seemed to grasp the fact; besides, what did it matter if a child is born bald or with a head full of hair? Health came first, all else, gender included, came second.

The real irritation he supposed, was not telling anyone they already knew the babe was a girl. While some Force users could detect the gender of any unborn baby, the majority were only able to tell if there was a close relationship between the force-sensitive and one of the parents. Given the current state of the Force, research on children born to non-sensitive parents had yet to take place.

Give the world a few decades; once the coming war – and it was coming – was over and done. 

“We can't stop the approaching war any more than we can stop the sun from rising.” Rose's voice cut into his thoughts. He'd reached the third floor without realizing it and the two of them had nearly run into one another. “Sorry, you were thinking too loudly again.” 

He chuckled. “It's usually you who does that, but not in a language I know.” 

The girl smirked, “and don't go trying to figure out which language is which.” Her stance relaxed. “You can go in now. I sent Doctor Abrams down the other stairs so he could get some breakfast.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “I'm going to go sit in my room for...half an hour before I go down and wake everyone else up. Or do you want an hour?” 

He shook his head, “an hour works. I'm thinking you'll fall asleep in your chair regardless of how long I ask for. So what does it matter?” 

She shrugged, “point. Besides, I'm thinking if I went downstairs now, someone would have to carry me back up.” She covered a yawn. “No, thank you. I can live without such mortification. Finn would tease me about it until his dying day.” 

“Get some rest kiddo,” he gave her a half hug. “You look like you could use a couple of hours.” 

Rose stepped past him, “and you could pack enough clothes for a trip to Australia in the bags under your eyes.” she went towards her room, yawning again. 

“Sass.” He muttered and went towards his and Rey's room. “Hope you never lose it.” The dark paneled corridor seemed twice as dim in the morning hours; he'd always found the contrast of the two floors striking – yet, in the hours just before sunrise and after sunset there was a balance in the amount of light and shadow of both. Were he to go one floor down, the path would look nearly identical. 

He nudged the door of the room open with his foot, feeling oddly shy and uncertain as he looked inside, his smile becoming a little more certain as he took in the sight of Rey, propped up in their bed, her attention on the small bundle in her arms. 

The mere act of stepping inside the room calmed him. He slid out of his dinner jacket, feeling wretchedly overdressed and set it on his chair as he crossed to the bed, not wanting to break the spell between mother and child; he didn't think it was possible Rey could look more beautiful than she did in this moment; though he knew she would argue with him about the state of her hair, the exhaustion of her night of labor plain across her face, and her overall disheveled appearance. Beautiful was the only word he could think of right now. 

“You're thinking too loudly.” Rey didn't break her gaze from the baby, “I'm too tired to have this discussion with you.” 

“Then let me win the argument for a change.” He came over to the bed and kissed her temple before sitting down next to her. “Rose is letting us have some time together before she goes and wakes everyone down in the drawing room. Which means she's gone to bed and they'll be in here after Doctor Abrams has eaten breakfast.” He put one arm around her, and reached towards the baby with his other hand, moving the fabric of the blanket aside. 

“She doesn't have your ears, I've already checked.” She set her head against his shoulder as he took in the sight of their daughter. “Though I may have taught Rose some words in Spanish she shouldn't know.” 

Ben barely registered her words; the sleeping infant in her arms erased his sleepless night, this winter which seemed twice as long as any since the War, the lingering sorrows of the losses of the past decade, all of it vanished in less time than it took to blink. How could something so small, so unassuming, so perfectly innocent and new do such an incredible thing? He rested his head against Rey's, his finger brushing against their daughter's cheek.

Jelena Grace Solo didn't stir from her slumber, clearly as exhausted from the ordeal as her mother. The only distinguishing feature of the babe was the head full of hair, as black as her father's. Everything else, well – she too little to tell much about her features, other than she was absolutely beautiful.

“I should have known she would show up on Leap Year Day.” Rey chuckled, “given how you and your uncle are about birthdays.” 

He kissed her temple. “I think she'll have a little more interest.... when your birthday only comes around every four years, it's all the more special.” Ben cupped their daughter's face with his hand. “And when she's my uncle's age, she can claim she's only fifteen.”

“Good lord, hard to think of such an age for someone who is all of an hour old.” She rubbed her cheek against his arm. “I want to sleep and at the same time, I don't want to let her out of my arms.” 

“I think I have a solution for that.” Ben kicked off his shoes, the rug muffling the thumps as they hit the floor, pulling his legs up onto the bed as he summoned the thick comforter folded at the foot of the bed towards them. He deftly tucked the covers over both him and Rey, settling her against him a little lower, and propping himself up against the headboard. “Comfy?” 

“You're always so warm.” She tucked her legs against his, “we're not going to have company in a little while, are we?”

“If Rose isn't already asleep, I'll eat my waistcoat for luncheon.” He kissed her forehead. “and my shoes for tea.” He brushed her force signature with his, then gently touched Jelena's signature too. “Welcome to the world, Sweet Pea.” 

“Sweet Pea?” Rey let out a yawn. “Where'd you come up with that name?”

Ben let out a breath, “I don't know. Just came to me, either that or we've lived through a moment like this in another life.” 

He could see Rey's wince clearly from this angle. “I'm too tired to get into Ezra Bridger's alternate reality theories, and I didn't think you believed the man anyway.” 

“Considering the sheer amount of morphine I know he took to blot out the Boer War, I'm not making any judgments.” He tightened his embrace. “All I want to do right now is hold my girls and get some sleep.” 

She yawned again. “No arguments against rest here.” Rey lifted her head and kissed his chin, “I love you.” 

Ben smiled against her hair, closing his eyes. “and I you, Reyes. Always and forever, my darling companion.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank all of my readers, comment leavers and kudo givers - it really means a lot to me. When I began this story, for the Reylo Sin Anthology, it was supposed to be some light smutty thing - written purely for fun. Somewhere, between chapters two and three, it became a story for someone. 
> 
> When I first started writing fanfic, a dear friend of mine, Lisa, was always encouraging my work. Even though I was writing in a fandom she was unfamiliar with, she was always ready to take a trip down the rabbit hole and let our OCs take over our blogs on LiveJournal. When she became sick with pancreatic cancer, it was devastating. All my plans for this story went out the window when I wrote it for her instead. Because she would have absolutely loved the Reylo pairing. A die-hard Phantom of the Opera phan, she was nothing less than the ultimate fandom auntie. 
> 
> She believed in my writing when no one else did, even more than I did, and I wish to God she was still here. 
> 
> But as I once told a mutual friend after Lisa's death about her writing, Lisa had already read the work in Heaven's library and wanted her to get her story out to share it with the world. 
> 
> And that's what I've done here. I like to think she's read this, and all the other amazing Reylo works this fandom has, and still encourages me to write. 
> 
> I miss you Lisa. Tell Gaston Leroux hi for me.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters 1-5 Beta read by vulnerablewarlord and reylorobyn2011. Chapters 6-12 unbetaed.
> 
> Come say hi! on Tumblr @blue-toast17


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